Crucible of Souls
by Jord
Summary: Follow up to No World for Heroes. The exile goes in search of Darth Traya and a Jedi cover-up, while her friends deal with problems of their own. Atton, missing at the end of NWfH, contemplates returning to his old profession.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

A few of you may have come across the prequel to this story (No World for Heroes) while most of you may have not. For those who haven't, I decided to add a brief introduction to the plot and the characters, basically because this sequel picks up where the previous story ended. You're also more than welcome to read the first one and if you do have the time for a critique – well, that's a bonus for me and I'd be ecstatic!

Anyway…here's the intro I promised.

* * *

**CHARACTERS**

**Revan:**

I'm guessing you all know this character. In this KoTOR 2 rendition, it is unknown to the Jedi and the Sith whether Revan serves the Republic or his own selfish ends. He has disappeared beyond the reaches of known space with a level of secrecy even his friends are not privy to.

**Elori Mataki:**

The Jedi Exile. Having been expelled from the Order, she sought isolation for a time before returning to civilization (as in Knights of the Old Republic 2). Due to feelings of guilt and remorse, she returned to Jedi Temple in Coruscant to ask for forgiveness from the Council. They turned her away, and her paths thereon led her to discover a plot to destroy the Jedi. Together with her friends and brother, they were able to thwart part of the Sith efforts and in doing so, discovered a secret long-hidden by the Jedi. Knowing that this information could easily be turned to evil purposes, Elori chooses secrecy over boldness to ascertain whether this information is true, and leaves her friends to gather more evidence on her own.

**Yustan Wes-Tar:**

A Jedi Knight loyal to Revan during the Mandalorian Wars. In the prequel, Yustan, together with her companion and good friend, Ben Fria, were not aware that Revan and Malak had turned to the dark side following the Mandalorian Wars. They were also unconscious of the fact that Revan had taken to setting up hidden bases where promising Jedi were captured and then turned to serve the dark side of the Force. Revan used this ignorance to his advantage, and lured the pair to his base on Korriban, where Ben Fria succumbed to his injuries and died. Using Ben's newly-departed spirit to guide her, Yustan escaped the tunnels and traps of the base to her freedom. Her road inevitably led to her meeting Elori Mataki and the pair decided on a plan to unravel Revan's schemes.

On their journey, she formed an unlikely friendship with her former-captor, Atton Rand, which gradually developed into a romantic relationship. Their affair was short-lived, however, due to Yustan's feelings of betrayal towards the Jedi Code and she left Atton to help Elori in her efforts to uncover a Jedi secret.

**Atton Rand:**

Having served both the Sith and the Jedi, Atton Rand possess a duality even he has yet to comprehend. Following the Mandalorian Wars, Atton makes a profitable living as a smuggler. His profession, although distasteful, is only a façade to conceal the darker nature of his business. In trying to fulfill Revan's goal to turn more Jedi to his cause, Revan's subordinates were very resourceful in their methods of obtaining Jedi. In this instance, some turned to employing individuals to deliver Jedi to rendezvous points where they would then be captured. Knowing full well that the persons to undertake this task needed not only intelligence but the skills to thwart a Jedi's ability to read minds, Revan's captains and generals selected very talented individuals and rewarded them handsomely. Recognizing that he possessed all the traits required for Revan's nefarious purposes, Atton took on the job and did it well.

Using his acumen and intelligence, he deceived Yustan and her companion, Ben, and delivered the pair into the hands of the Sith on Korriban. There, he also discovered that he had a talent for breaking the Jedi, and this did not go unnoticed by the Sith there. His career did not progress much further, however, after Yustan escaped the base. Fearing retribution from the Sith, he fled Korriban and took solace in the superficial comforts of Nar Shadaa. After a period, his guilt and conscience caught up with him. The Force also directed him along the same paths as Elori and Yustan, where his information was used to unravel the Sith plot. Yustan despised his very presence at this time, and was insistent that he be dealt with by the Council instead of having him accompany their party. However, Elori saw this moment as an opportunity for redemption, should Atton seek to choose it and allowed for him a chance to change his ways.

During this journey, he rediscovered parts of himself that he had forgotten he possessed, which enabled him to develop feelings for Elori's companion, Yustan. Although Yustan's feelings were mutual, she soon felt that she could not reciprocate them due to her adherence to the Jedi Code. Feeling betrayed and hopeless, Atton left his newly-found friends to seek a life elsewhere. He was not heard from for a long period.

**Javin Kepp:**

Elori's younger brother. Following a lead she had obtained before the Mandalorian Wards, and after her rejection from the Council for forgiveness, Elori decided to attempt to find some evidence that indicated that she had a sibling. Her search was successful and it led her to Javin Kepp, a young man adopted by a family on Endor. Passionate and impulsive, Javin was unaware that he was Force sensitive. His meeting with Elori served as an education of sorts; in which he was informed of his natural abilities. Realizing that there was much more potential for him to fulfill, Javin secretly stowed away on Yustan's ship as she and Elori left Endor. After having discovered the stowaway, Elori was furious and demanded that Yustan reverse direction so that they could return the boy to his home. Yustan pointed out that time was something that they couldn't negotiate with, and Elori grudgingly conceded to allow the boy to accompany them on their journey.

The experience forced Javin to mature faster than he would naturally, and during his time of capture by the Sith, his Jedi abilities surged powerfully above the surface. Recognizing that he was very different from most Jedi, and not forgetting her treatment by the Jedi Council, Elori sought to protect her brother from them. But that desire was pushed to the sidelines after she discovered that both she and Javin were entangled in a Jedi conspiracy that ran deeper than she could have imagined. The depth of the plot was not revealed to Javin, although pieces of information were left with his soon-to-be friend and mentor, James Yeo-Lan. Before Elori's departure, Javin made the decision to become a Jedi and chose to be trained at an academy on Dantooine, and Elori reluctantly approved of his wishes.

**James Yeo-Lan: **

The former Padawan of Jedi Master, Atris. Having arrived towards the end of Elori and her companions' path, James befriended them and together they united to fight the Sith threat. In their battle against the Sith, Elori and James discovered that the Force had somehow allowed for the two of them to communicate telepathically; even to a greater extent than Jedi usually do. However, due to his Master's voiced anger against Elori and her choice to join Revan in the war against the Mandalorians, Elori Mataki's name left a bitter taste in James' mouth. Convinced that it was she who was to blame for her own downfall and some of the other Jedi, James initial dislike towards her was obvious. Their ideals were in complete contrast; his loyalty lay with the Order and hers lay with her friends. It was his relationship with the Order which stopped Elori from gaining information crucial to her and Javin's ties to the Jedi. Following these events, she chose to sever their mental connection, and acted coolly towards James when she learned that he would undertake Javin's training. However, after her sudden departure, she deliberately left her journal in the care of James' Jedi Master, Atris. She recognized that Atris wouldn't fail to give it to James, and he in turn to her brother. Although it is unknown at this time, James believed this to be a gesture of forgiveness.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

**A long time ago, in a galaxy far away...**

It has been two years since the Sith Lord, Darth Malak, fell at the hands of his former master, Revan. The Star Forge, an ancient and powerful weapons plant, which had supplied Malak with an endless stream of fleets to crush the Republic, was brought to an end as well. It seemed time a time for peace, and restoration...but that was not to be.

Despite this crucial victory, a tense quiet settled over the galaxy. And it remained so for a few years. Soon, this silent unease crept its way across the galaxy and not even Revan himself could evade its touch. Unrest stirred within him, and it wasn't long before his concerns were justified. Slowly but steadily, Jedi across the galaxy began to disappear. At first, it gave no serious cause for alarm, but as the number of disappearances began to increase, words and thoughts gave way to action.

However, action against an invisible assailant proved to be more difficult. In this task, the Jedi stood alone, for it was from their own that this enemy had stemmed. Their hunters had all the markings of the Sith, but there remained something elusive and secretive about them that gave them a distinct nature. And a distinct advantage. Their attempts to engage this kind of foe were futile, and they could do very little as many of their brothers and sisters fell silently. It wasn't long before this threat crawled closer towards the Jedi Order and several Jedi Academies across the galaxy. Soon, even the Jedi Temple on Coruscant grew quiet; only a handful of Jedi resided within.

Not long after, Revan recognized that their current tactics and methods of confrontation did nothing to alleviate the situation. Stealth could only be met with stealth. There was information he needed to gather about his enemy before a final confrontation, something that he could use against them. It was then that Revan decided, quite abruptly, that he needed remove himself from the situation entirely. He left quickly, taking with him none of his close companions, save for a seemingly insignificant astromech droid.

His friends remained with the Republic, confused and justifiably hurt. The Order, although doubtful that he had fallen, felt abandoned…and some felt betrayed. His disappearance also fueled talk amongst galactic citizens. Some argued that he had left to find ways to defeat this new foe, and others argued that it was simply cowardice that caused him to flee. But their opinions were irrelevant, and such idle talk did nothing to change the situation.

Circumstances went from bad to worse, and several Jedi across the galaxy were forced to go into hiding. Not long after, more players in this game emerged. The price for the extermination or capture of a Jedi Knight grew steadily, and shortly thereafter, bounties were placed on them – and almost every bounty hunter known and unknown sought to collect.

Rumours of Jedi on several planets came into being. Twisted criminal organizations and corrupted officials devised cunning strategies to bring these Jedi out into the light. More often than not, they were successful. The few remaining Jedi were made to scurry under the holes and cracks of the galaxy to hide themselves. And it was in those places that they anxiously waited, biding their time, hoping for an end to such a nightmare...

* * *

The light shone into the barren room as the door opened, and her eyes involuntarily closed. Footsteps could be heard across the floor. Consciously this time, she scurried towards the corner of the room and mumbled incoherently. She tried to cast off a feeling of dizziness, but it clung tightly onto her, pressing down hard on her head. Sleep begged her to consume itself, but deadened as her instincts were, she remained awake and unhappy. Through her half-closed lids she was able to make out the familiar boots that strode towards her. How she hated them – the smell of the musty leather, the caked mud, dirt and who knew what else, that crusted around its heel. She wanted to grab a knife, a sword, a nail... anything, and drive it straight through them.

A few feet away from her, the boots stopped moving. And then, as always, a heavy, cold instrument came up against her forehead, and her eyes flashed immediately in recognition.

"Don't have to restate myself, do I?" came the voice.

She shook her head, no.

The instrument moved down slowly, towards her neck.

"Do you want to die yet?" it spoke again.

No.

"Then you know the drill." In the next instant, the voice turned away from her and called out to someone.

She pressed herself up against the dank wall, her hands and feet going cold again. Try as she might, now – for anger could often give her strength – she could not feel hatred for her captor. She often tried to imagine his death in a variety of scenarios, but of late, it had brought her less satisfaction. What she despised, though, were those wretched boots. Their arrival rang the bells of the commencement of pain. And what often followed them were disturbing periods of nightmare-filled sleep and immeasurable amounts of time to either relive or suppress the recent past.

She wanted to rip those damned boots to shreds.

The light in the doorway was now blocked by another figure. She held her breath, her mind suddenly more alert. This second person entered the room, speaking. And as the voice carried over to her ears, the blood began to pound inside her heart, the effects of which rippled quickly towards her brain. Her breathing resumed, not quite normal, but her muscles were tensed. She did not attempt to make out what he was saying. Indeed, that often proved useless and was even destructive to her sanity. But like the ferret who knew danger was near yet couldn't spot it, she could do nothing but freeze, listening to the sound of her own predator.

Ah, now _that _voice was something she could detest.

It had been what she considered to be a long time since it had come near her. It was soft, calm and given another time and place, it was almost tender. But not to her. Pain was associated with it, and nothing save for a miracle would give her reason to respond to it without fear.

In between her hatred and dread, she caught words – obscenities, directions, references to random things or places – all revolving around her. She found herself pulled to her feet soon after, and she stood in one place unsteadily, her knees trembling in dreadful anticipation. She hit the wall hard, and imagined that she could feel her brain rattling within her skull. The real blow, however, reached her senses seconds later, and her shoulder began to throb in protest. But there wasn't much time to wallow in the pain, because new areas of her body began to receive each hit in succession, causing her system to mechanically switch over to numbness. And numbness could only give way to sleep, and that – as she now knew – would be a grand thing.

* * *

**ONE YEAR AGO...**

**Dagobah**

Elori Mataki made her way down the hill too slowly for her liking, but nothing in her life was to her liking anyway...so why disrupt its flow?

Her boot sank with a wet squelch into the mud, and with a look of distaste, she pulled it out quickly. She looked up at the mangrove trees around her and paused, listening. The ground grew more moist as she had pressed forward, which was indicative of a swamp in the vicinity. This was not altogether ominous on its own, but it could prove potentially dangerous should any of the swamp's hungry or unfriendly inhabitants come crawling along. Reluctantly, she turned around and began to move up the slippery hill back onto more solid, and drier, ground.

No sooner had she done this, however, when a swift movement above her caught her attention, and without warning, swung forward, hitting her square on the face. She fell backwards onto her elbows with a cry, and struggled to her feet again. An instant later, she felt the air behind her move and stepped aside quickly, grabbing whatever it was that had confronted her in a vice-like grip.

The creature squealed and struggled in protest, and despite the incoherent shouts – which alarmed her greatly – she was able to make out just what she had locked in her arms.

In her surprise, she had nearly dropped the creature, but a moment before she could do so, it hit her across the head again with a resounding thwack.

"No! No!" shouted the small being.

Elori shoved it away from her amidst the yells, and screamed loudly to be heard. "It's me, Yura! It's me!"

Another shot found its way to her head.

"Hurt me, you will not!" it cried.

"But it's _you _who's hurting me!" moaned Elori, as she moved away.

Finally, thankfully, it stopped the battering. Snorting at Elori contemptuously, it spoke. "Serves you right. If protect yourself better, you cannot, then it serves you right."

"But I didn't want to hurt you!"

"Pfeh. Grabbed my neck like a swamp-croc with lock-jaw, you did." she scowled as she rubbed the area near her collar-bone tenderly. And then she grinned mischievously, "But too quick for you, I was!" Yura moved swiftly towards Elori and gave her another whack, before moving away, sniggering.

"Would you stop that, please?" said an annoyed Elori. "I didn't come here to be greeted by you and that infuriating pan!"

"If not come to see me, you have, then what business do you have on Dagobah?"

Elori shook her head, frustrated. "Well, of course I came to see_ you_... But what I meant was that this was not quite the reunion I imagined."

"Forgive me, I hope you will, for not tidying up the planet before your arrival."

"Alright. Alright." Elori stood up and looked down at her friend, frowning. "I never know why I start an argument with you anyway. It always dissolves into nothing."

Yura scowled in response. "As should most arguments. For develop into wars, they can."

It was uncanny, hearing both wisdom and nonsense emerge from this being. And it was this unlikely personality that she had come to miss greatly. Allowing for a smile to finally settle on her face, Elori spoke, "Now what, Yura? You going to boil me and serve me as the first course for dinner?"

Yura's eyes narrowed, as if studying Elori from a different perspective. And then her face relaxed, and her usual demeanor returned. "I could. But too much meat has gone from your bones. Taste like dried wood, you would."

* * *

Her taste buds suddenly recovered a not-so-fond memory as the broth made its way across her mouth and down her gullet. But it was food, and sustenance, but more importantly, it had been prepared by Yura herself. To refuse would prove unacceptable. A little reluctantly, she moved her arm to a side to make way for a second helping of swamp bat stew. Her stomach rumbled in protest, and she decided to give it a few minutes before unleashing the enemy on it once more.

"Weaker, is your appearance." commented the gnome-like creature as she settled back into her chair.

"I have no doubt your stew will toughen me up," chuckled Elori.

Yura did not smile back. "But stronger, have you grown, in the Force."

Elori raised her eyebrows and nodded. "Ah. Yes. Well, a lot of things have happened since I left."

A spell of silence came over the pair, and after a short while, Elori could not take it much longer. "Aren't you going to ask me what happened?"

"Care to know that, I do not."

"Why ever not? A lot of things have happened in the last few years...with Revan, the Jedi –"

"Seen enough, I have, of that world out there. Changed it may be, to you. But if step back, you can...then a bigger picture you will see. And this bigger picture is made up of the same pattern."

Elori leaned back in her seat and sighed. She couldn't help but feel small and insignificant in comparison to her companion. Yura had seen a great deal of life, and even though she did not flaunt her wisdom, it emerged from her so naturally that it could not be dismissed so easily.

Elori looked around the small, but solid, mud hut and took in its character slowly. It was plain, simple, rugged, but it exuded a warm quality. Undoubtedly, the tiny home had received its share of bruises from an unkind weather system, and the patched cracks and stains on its walls and windows both on the outside and the inside were evidence of this. Nevertheless, there was warmth that stubbornly refused to be displaced, and it was this warmth that always drew her back. Always.

And here she was again, despite the task that lay before her. She wished that she could find a reason for her to remain here, like she had, a few years ago. But it was not to be, she told herself, and she had to press on, for Javin's sake.

At the thought of Javin, her eyes lit up and she spoke.

"Did I ever tell you that I found my brother?"

"No. Much like you, is he?" Yura didn't bat an eye.

Elori looked a little disappointed and resigned herself to the fact that the old gnome could never be surprised. "I don't know, really. It's other people who should be the judge of that."

Yura wiggled her eyebrows curiously. "Perhaps know yourself enough, you do not...to be able to compare yourself to your brother!"

"Well," she said frowning, "...I suppose I know myself better than I did before. And it's either that or I'm deluding myself, don't you think?" laughed Elori.

Yura relented, letting out a small chortle. "So why come here, have you?"

Elori shrugged. "One last look around, maybe. To reinforce certain memories."

"...before what?"

"Before I trot off again. On a jaunt. Or a merry escapade or whatever you'd like to call it."

"Treat such dark matters lightly, you do."

Elori scowled. "You'd be joking if you were me, you know. Denial is a perfectly normal human emotion."

"Ah. But I am not human."

"You could've fooled me."

The pair laughed.

"Condone your response, I do. Laughter, even in the darkest of situations, can bring light. But fail to see, do I, your return to this place – my home – when you have your work to finish."

"It's like I said. I needed to see this place, and you, one more time. Before I left for Coruscant that day...you said we might see each other again. And I wanted that to come true."

In the next instant, Yura's eyes turned somber. "You believe that when you leave _this_ time, see each other again, we will not."

Elori's silence was her answer.

"Argue with that, I will not. But there remains one more thing...something else to fulfill, you need."

"If that's the case," she paused, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table, "I have no idea what it is. You'll need to enlighten me."

Yura's ears pricked up and recognized her friend's admission as the truth, and felt sad that that was the case. "Have a new demon to face, you do. And very afraid, are you. So afraid that admit it to yourself, you cannot. War of the physical kind teaches you only a fraction of the battles of the heart...from where all wars stem. If confront, you can, these villains inside you, then truly powerful will you become."

"I don't want to be powerful."

"I speak not of _that_ kind of power, ignoramus," scolded Yura. "I mean, the power of a satisfied mind. So simple a thing, it is, but so strong!"

Elori remained quiet for a few moments, and then looked her friend in the eyes. "Is that what you have? Is that why you're...?" She couldn't quite bring herself to say it.

"Content? Happy? Why speak these words, you cannot? Yes. Old Yura feels content. She feels very happy. If displace me, you can, from my home – even then will I have my peace."

"What price have you paid for it?" whispered Elori.

"Price depends on you. Perhaps I have been stubborn, and because of that, a bigger price to pay, did I. But what I paid will be different from what you pay."

"And that's why I've come here, isn't it..." realized Elori.

Yura nodded slowly. She hobbled off her stool and made her way towards Elori. She scowled and stabbed her finger heavily into Elori's shoulder as she spoke. "Come to collect my final gift to you. All that I have learnt and endured, you will soon come to know. But learning it, a long time, will that take."

"But I don't have much time," she said, both nervous and eager.

"That is not what I mean," said Yura shaking her head. "But you will understand soon enough. Speak no more words tonight, should we. Clear your mind of clutter, you should. It is now time for sleep."

* * *

**THE PRESENT...**

A steady throbbing near her heart brought her towards wakefulness, if wakefulness was the correct word for it. She groaned and straightened out where she lay, feeling several muscles, and who knew what else, complain along with her. Her side still ached, and she found her mind wandering to other areas of thought, in an attempt at distraction.

Was that all real? Everything that happened before...on Dagobah? And even on Coruscant – at the Jedi Temple – there was this Sith who was taunting her. No, that wasn't right. He was telling her something. About someone? And then James, Javin and Yustan came...and they all went to see a woman in white. Everything about her was white. Her home, her planet, her funny little friends. Where was Atton in all this mess? She couldn't quite remember seeing him with them, and she was certain that she would remember because he wouldn't pass up the chance to poke fun at that freezing ice pot. Or maybe he was, she thought. Yes, of course he was, she had only forgotten. They were all there now, gathered together waiting for her to come back. And she was returning to them now. In fact, here she was, on board a freighter...traveling back to them.

A large sound chugged to life, startling her.

She'd heard it before, and as one thought associated with another, she remembered what it was. Some kind of age-old generator.

She opened her eyes wide. This wasn't a freighter. _No_, she consoled herself, _of course it is – just go back to sleep. I'm not sleeping. I'm awake. And I know – just as I've always known – that this is real. This is happening_.

_This is happening_.

And so began the process of her realization. It was no longer new, as it had grown into a pattern that rarely digressed from its path. But just as it had happened each time, she had always imagined her reality to be fictitious and not the other way around before coming to her senses. It took a while for recognition to sink in, and when it finally did, she would always promise herself that the next time there would be no more delusions. No more imaginings of a bizarre alternate, happier, reality.

She groggily pushed herself up into a sitting position. She froze as she felt her body complain, and in the next moment, felt her stomach heave, and she retched all over herself. A few minutes later, after nothing save for the bitter taste of bile came out, she leaned her head back and groaned.

She felt like a one-woman freak show.

What an idiot, she thought, what a blinding, bumbling fool I was. To stumble into such a trap and not see through it! No matter now, no matter. She could recollect those fond memories once she got out.

And sooner seemed much better than later.

* * *

**THREE MONTHS AGO...**

To wander the galaxy, even as an exiled Jedi, should have been done carefully, and with secrecy. The bounty on a Jedi's head was growing higher by the day. She would become a wanted woman should anyone unravel who she truly was. And she believed that she was moving about as stealthily as she could for someone who was conducting her own investigations. In many places, people resorted to tormenting the down-trodden and the weak, hoping that a Jedi would happen along to relieve them of their woes. She was well aware of this, and kept herself away from the worries and needs of others, bringing as little attention to herself as she could.

But she had to press forward with her task, and this obviously required interaction with others. In one of her dealings, she had heard words...and references to a Sith who had been leading groups of soldiers – Sith soldiers – to hunt down the remaining Jedi. Altogether, this was neither far from the obvious nor the overstated possibility of the truth. But as the conversation deepened, she learned more about this Sith, his broken body – a corpse – yet not dead. Still cautious, she attributed such descriptions to be that of an overactive imagination. And then, a few days later, she had learned that he once had a teacher – as all Jedi and Sith do – who had been stripped of something, and cast down. She too, was rumoured to be alive, but in hiding.

And that was the clincher.

She pursued this trail of information diligently, eventually tracking it down to a small, isolated, farm on Corellia. There, she had met a family, who had been grieving for their lost son. The boy was no more than four, and was Force sensitive. His parents were completely unaware of it until a Jedi had come calling, requesting that he be given up for proper training. The boy's father had run the Jedi off, insulted and hurt. Life returned to normal, but a few weeks later, their son went to school and was never seen again.

Upon questioning the parents, they divulged that the Jedi was accompanied by some sort of old maidservant, who only played a silent and barely noticeable role in that short span of time. Elori was excited now, recognizing that this might indeed be the woman who Atris so fearfully spoke of. As for the Jedi with her, he could have been just about anyone, except for what he claimed to be. What with the Order in ruins and the Jedi scattered, journeys to distant locations searching for future Padawans seemed too unrealistic.

Out of a sense of obligation or perhaps curiousity, Elori had decided to remain with this broken family on Corellia for a few weeks. She had traveled to neighbouring farms and towns, asking discreetly about the disappearance of the young boy. A lot of the people there merely shook their heads in the sadness of it all, and admitted to having seen or heard nothing. Even the authorities at his school had seen nothing out of the ordinary. The boy's details were often aired on communication networks around that rural part of Corellia, and inevitable rumours began to stir about his disappearance.

Some believed him to be the victim of pith hounds, but that was most unlikely. Pith hounds were extremely distant – evolutionary and geologically – relatives of the more vicious kath hounds. They were much smaller in stature, and despite being omnivorous – they preferred ravaging turnip beds to devouring people. Others believed him to be the victim of a cult-like order that resided near the hillside. Elori traveled to meet these so-called shady inhabitants and found them to be nothing more than simple people. They attributed their reasons of being to a cosmic and benign deity known as the rain goddess. They relied solely on their own produce and generation of energy to make their way in the world, and violence, war and battle was definitely frowned upon by the rain goddess. But it was not this that had convinced her that they had played no part in the boy's disappearance. It was when they had offered to channel her spirit to dance with theirs in the clouds above – for only a brief spell – before they would rain down into themselves again, that she had smiled politely and said her goodbyes.

The boy's parents, carefully observing her efforts to aid them, had then made the friendly overture for her to stay with them, and she accepted gratefully. She had no misgivings, because despite the unlikely hospitality, they were not extremely worldly. She could not fathom either person turning her over for a large sum of credits. But wisely, she chose not to reveal who she was. To do so would only add insult to injury.

Her time there, although restful, was sad. Many nights, she would be awakened by the cries of the boy's mother, and the softer sobs of her husband. She had heard such sounds before, during the wars, and to hear them again unearthed memories that needed to remain buried. During the day, she did what she could to console them – more in actions than words. She helped the father plough acres of his land, fix broken machinery. With the mother, she played the role of listener, taking in a mass of convoluted and painful emotions that came with the loss of her son.

As days grew into weeks, a kind of complacency had settled upon husband and wife, and they came to use Elori as a crutch to overcome their hurt. It was then that things spiraled out of control, and it was then when she should have been alert.

Somehow, through some means or another, she had been found out. Elori had been pulling out stinkweed in the carrot beds by hand, and it had taken her a large portion of the day to do so. When she returned back to the house, something was amiss. And she didn't need the Force to tell her either. The fire near the hearth had died, and the room was terribly cold. All the gas lamps had been extinguished and what food remained on the table was half-eaten and in disarray. Panic surged in her chest and she immediately thought that someone had returned to deal with the boy's parents. Judging by the current layout of the house, they could be miles away by now. She had run to the room she slept in, rummaging under the mattress for her lightsaber. She fumbled for it in vain, however, and soon she recognized that it was just as missing as her hosts were.

The next few minutes ran together in disarray – she couldn't quite remember in which order events proceeded. Masses of men (or so it seemed), decked to the hilt with armour and a range of weapons, swarmed in from every opening of the house. She fought off as many as she could, but there was only so much an unarmed individual could do against a barrage of assaults. Within minutes, she had been overpowered and restrained; her hands, _and_ legs, bound together like a feral animal's.

From there, she was moved around – almost on a daily basis – from one location to another. Security around her was tight; she was kept in comfortable conditions, but within a large force cage at all times. Her guards always eyed her warily, as if she could cast a spell on them should they weaken themselves enough. But what was worse, what she found so difficult to come to terms with, was the inexplicable nature of it all. What had happened to the man and woman she had come to be fond of? Were they even alive? She'd raised the matter with her captors, who she now suspected to be some form of governmental authority, but they offered her no answers. In fact, the looks of hatred they shot her way whenever she raised that particular question was indicative of their belief that she was responsible for whatever had happened to them. And that, they didn't like one bit.

After countless days of trying to squeeze information out of anyone, she received news that she would be taken to the capital soon. And there, she would have to bide her time in yet another cell, awaiting a date for her trial. Miserable and disheartened, she realized that she had indeed been fingered as a possible perpetrator in this crime. Which would mean that...that her friends were either missing, or worse.

Very soon, news of her capture and arrest spread across the planet like wildfire. Although she was quite unaware of it, people's tongues began wagging about the Jedi who infiltrated a broken home, only to cause more hurt to those who welcomed her. Security about her grew tighter and she was allowed even less freedom than usual, if that was even possible. But despite such security, somewhere along the way, a mind was corrupted and tempted by wealth. Realizing just what it was they had in their grasp, events were orchestrated and planned intricately for her second capture.

But this time around, she would fall into the hands of someone far worse.

* * *

**THE PRESENT...**

"Up, up," came the voice.

She blinked to overcome a brief spell of dizziness as she rose to her feet. A fluorescent lamp flickered above her and the room was bathed in light. She looked down at her bare feet – the only part of her body that didn't hurt.

"Out."

He shoved her roughly with familiar metallic rod, and she moved forward unsteadily.

"Oh for bloody sake...we haven't got all day!"

He pushed her again, and she moved quicker this time and into the hallway. She found herself looking at a long stretch of the passageway before her, penetrated by several smaller corridors and various intersections. Even had she been conscious when they had brought her here, it would require more than a few minutes to memorize the layout of this damned maze.

"'Kay down there?" a voice called out from somewhere.

"Fine. But hurry it up, we ain't got all day. Come evening, and they'll be back to check on her."

Alert, she turned her head a fraction of an inch to her captor behind her, working out this new development.

Check on her? Hurry what up? What the bloody heck did they mean?

The second man came into view, and he stood a few yards in front of her, observing. His small frame sported a jacket five sizes too big, and he had holsters at his hips – empty now. He wore a red visor that hid his eyes from view, but any fool could tell that it was her that he was studying.

"Bit scrawny for a Jedi, huh?" his voice crawled out. "And tall too. Taller than me. I don't like 'em tall."

Something in the way he said it made her blood boil and her skin grow cold. If this shrimp didn't like 'em tall, then maybe she'd cut off his legs for him and replace them with long blunt vibroblades. A raspy cough on her part reminded her of her current physical handicap, and she restrained her anger.

"You says you wanted some sport. If you were willing to pay one thousand creds for her, you sure as hell ain't gonna back out now. _Are you?_" snorted the first man behind her.

"Naw. You're right. Let's start."

"Hold up, buddy boy. There's some rules we got here before you get the show started. One, you only use one trank dart out of that there pistol, you got that? If you use two, if you use three, she's gonna be knocked out for hours. And that's just too long. Two, no stabbing. Now I know you says I confiscated all of your weapons at the door, but I know you're lying. You got a knife there somewhere. If you use it, the jig is up and I'm gonna have to keep you here – pin it all on you."

The smaller man twisted around and pulled out a short pistol, smiling. "Gotcha chief. Anything else?"

"Nope." He raised in index finger in the air, "But I got some words for our little friend here." He turned her around to face him, keeping her at a safe distance with his long weapon. "Sweetheart, we're gonna play something new today. See, my buddy here, he loves to have himself a good hunt. An' this place is 'bout as good as it gets for you two to run around in. So you play nice now, go run an' hide. He'll count to ten. An' when he reaches that lovely round number, he's gonna come get ya. And you'd better be quick."

She stared back at him, her face expressionless.

"What's the matter, kid? Cat got your tongue? Or could it be you're upset 'bout this?"

With his instrument, he reached down towards the bottom of her thin shirt and pulled it up slightly, revealing her stomach. She slowly followed his gaze and stared, incomprehensive, at the markings engraved on it. The red lines traced across her belly, having been carved there before by something sharp. They were new, but not fresh, and she had not noticed anything of the sort before on her body. Slowly but surely, the letters came to make sense to her. The obscenity gushed straight to her head and set waves of anger pulsing around her body. This was it. This was the place where she could no longer comply, nor listen.

The words...scorched into her body like a cattle brand.

This was the final indignity.

When she looked up at him the second time, she gazed deep into his eyes, and unbeknownst to him, she made a silent promise.

_I am going to get out of here alive_.

* * *

**TEN MONTHS AGO...**

**Dagobah**

"Faster! Faster!" chortled the voice behind her as she ran.

Elori wanted to answer, to say anything, but her heavy gasps would not permit her to get a word in edgeways. She saw the vine up ahead of her, and the ravine that separated her from the next chunk of solid ground. She groaned inwardly. That damned vine was too high, the chasm too wide, and this being clinging to her back, too heavy.

A wooden spoon emerged from the corner of her vision, and she braced herself for its impact upon her already sore head.

"Think that way, you will not!" Yura tightened her grip around the young woman's shoulders. "Do not slacken! Keep running...get ready and jump! Juuump!"

Gasping for a lungful of air before her feet left the ground, Elori said a silent prayer to no one in particular, and stretched out hard with every muscle in her body, from her toes to her fingertips. As soon her hands touched the natural rope, they clasped it tightly, and she let out a puff of relief. Her sweaty palms caused her to slip down the vine a few inches, but she already had the angular momentum she needed and within seconds, her feet slammed onto the ground on the other side. She stopped running and found herself grinning, bending over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

_Thwack!_

"To stop, I did not tell you," scolded Yura, "if keep going you do not, then have to hit you again, I will!"

"I...don't care..." panted Elori. "...been running and climbing for seven hours –"

" – five!" corrected Yura.

"Who cares? In...all my life...I have never received...this kind of training..."

"Then, taught you well, the Jedi did not. If you are your own master, then give up, you can. But these days...I am your teacher. Every part of your body, and your mind – is mine to guide. And I am not ready to stop running."

"...we have miles more ground to cover," protested Elori weakly, already knowing that Yura would win.

"Then the quicker you start, the quicker we finish."

Elori closed her eyes, focusing on nothing for several seconds. When she opened them, a renewed strength flooded her muscles and she took off once more, with Yura clinging on tightly to her bumpy ride.

The pair soon came to an embankment, a steep slope that was almost completely enveloped in mist. There were no mangroves here, for indeed, the swamps lay far below them. Here loomed great willow trees, whose roots ran wide and deep, and what appeared to hold this large embankment together. Elori studied them carefully, gazing at the thick roots that protruded from the ground. Getting about here wasn't going to be easy and simultaneously running across it wouldn't help either, but it was doable. Definitely doable.

"Glad to hear you think this way, I am." spoke Yura.

"I'm glad to hear you're glad, Yura."

The smaller creature gave Elori's shoulder a slight squeeze, causing her to pause. "But overconfidence can lead to failure. Not a failing of your capabilities, but a failing of your ability to understand something for what it truly is. Very ugly, reality can be."

"But these are just a bunch of big roots on a slope. Apart from quick reflexes and a decent sense of balance, I don't see what else we need."

"Wet, are these slopes. Look," Yura pointed upwards with a knobby finger, towards the light of the moon, and then down towards a puddle of water in which the moonlight was reflected. "Very cautious will you have to be."

Sweat drenched her body and every muscle longed for rest and warmth. Her stomach growled, it wouldn't even mind three helpings of swamp bat stew tonight. Elori grew impatient. "If I slip, I'll just grab a root, okay?"

"Cover something else, this embankment does."

Elori turned her head to one side. She didn't like the sound of this.

"Tainted, this side of Dagobah has become. Some caves here contain poisonous snakes. And others contain poisonous thoughts that seep outwards. Prefer the former, do I. But here we do not have a choice."

Elori swallowed. "Maybe I'll um...need my lightsaber for this."

"Need that, you do not."

_It's not like we have much of a choice_, realized Elori. They'd left all forms of weapons, save for Yura's crude wooden spoon, behind. They could either turn around, and face that six-hour trek back, or press on.

"What would you have me do?" asked Elori quietly.

"You should go forward."

"You place too much trust in me. I don't know what'll happen. I don't know what I'll do."

"You will do exactly what I have taught you. Let us keep moving."

* * *

**THE PRESENT...**

She stumbled forward in the dim light, keeping her left hand up against the wall to her left, and followed it. She used this simple but effective technique in the hope that it would get her towards some kind of exit. Of course, chances were that the exit would be locked and secured, but one never knew. Turning around for a brief second, she heard the clinking of boots against metal – and the sound was getting louder. She quickened her pace, wondering silently to herself if she was only delaying the inevitable.

There had to be something else, some other way to get out.

She looked around her as she walked, studying everything she could. There was no source of light apart from that above her. There were no windows. She repeated the words silently to herself. _No windows_. This place was either a warehouse or she was in some kind of underground compound. If so, it was obviously old – that generator she had heard before was gas powered.

She paused again, trying to listen for her pursuer. The now familiar sound of his boots came just as they had before. _Good_, she decided, _at least I know where you are, you little scumbag_.

She lifted her gaze upwards and to her surprise saw two large pipes trailing their way across the ceiling. One would be water, and the other...gas? Of course! How foolish of her! That damned generator needed a constant supply of gas to keep this basement powered. Her mind worked quickly as she kept moving. Now, this gasoline, would it be used in the form of compressed air or liquid? For the few companies that still produced it, they made the compressed air form with a clearly recognizable odor – purely for safety reasons. But the liquid form was far older, and did not have that distinct smell. But which form was running through those pipes?

Only one way to find out.

She leapt up, trying to grab either pipe like a wide pole. After five attempts, she was successful, and somewhat awkwardly, she managed to straddle the damn thing upside down. She paused for several moments, exhaustion soon catching up with her. She was also more than a little afraid now. Should that nasty little fellow come crawling along, she would be in an extremely vulnerable position.

She struggled, gripping the pipe tightly, tugging it in a downwards direction with her body. She heard the groaning of metal, perhaps she was loosening the clamps that held it in place. With more hope and a greater sense of urgency, she pulled harder. Suddenly, something creaked around her and she came crashing to the floor. She landed with a thud onto her back, and when she looked up, she saw a spray of liquid flowing out and away from her.

She quickly crawled forward on her hands and knees, praying for the liquid to be what she wanted it to be. Tentatively she touched it with the tip of her finger and brought it up to her mouth. On tasting it, her face scrunched up in distaste and she broke out into a large smile.

_Hot damn_.

But her activity hadn't gone unnoticed.

"What the..." spoke a voice softly from behind her.

She spun around, and without giving herself much room to think, she charged the man, bringing him crashing to the ground.

She fell down on top of him, and punched him squarely on the jaw. She smiled, quite pleased with herself. But the next instant revealed that he had only received a mild blow, apparently her punches did not have as much oomph as they once did. Frustrated and determined not to go back to that hellhole of a room, she punched him again.

But he had recovered himself well enough to shove a sharp, bony, knee into her stomach. Simultaneously, he threw her off him and rolled her onto the ground.

_This shrimp isn't a pushover, is he?_ she thought.

He brought a hand to her throat and squeezed, saying something that she refused to hear. She felt her eyes bulge and let out a garble, trying feebly to push him away with her hands. No good...he only squeezed harder. And then she did the only thing she could think of doing. With a concerted effort, she jerked herself up and hit his head with her own. She didn't know how hard that got him, but whatever it did, his hands were off her throat. When she looked at him, she found that he had reeled backwards, and was blinking stupidly, trying to bring himself around.

Scowling, she threw him a shot with her elbow that struck him on the chin.

Finally, thankfully, he was knocked out senseless on the floor. She looked at him, rubbing her throat gently as she spoke.

"That's what I call using your head. You should try it sometime."

She bent down next to him, searching his person for the weapon earlier. Tucked into his belt, she found his pistol. She grabbed it, and paused. What was it before that jerk number one was saying about stabbing? Something about a knife? She narrowed her eyes and patted down the unconscious individual, avoiding no bodily crevice. To her relief, she found it soon – a small but sharp dagger.

She stood up and was about to walk away from the prostrate form when something occurred to her. She looked down at her clothes. A ragged shirt and a pair of shorts that did not deserve its name. She looked back at the man. He was a little smaller than her, sure, but that shirt looked like it might fit. So would the pants, even if they didn't reach her ankles. In any case, she couldn't wander about half naked, now could she?

* * *

He made his way down the stairs with a bounce in his walk and a merry little tune in his mind. He slid the access card into its security slot and watched as the light glowed a permissive green. The door slid open and he pulled out his portable map. This damned place was a maze. He'd been working here for over three weeks now, and he still couldn't master its layout. He walked forward, and took several turns along the way, all the while looking at his map.

But when his boots made an audible splashing sound, he was forced to look away from his map screen. There was liquid all over the place.

_What the hell was going on?_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, but when he whirled around, it was gone. He called out to his friend half-jokingly. Fun was over, he said, time to go home now.

No answer.

He moved forward slowly, looking back and forth frequently from his map and in front of him. The exit. He needed to make his way towards the exit.

As he neared the second to last intersection before the exit, he saw a prostrate figure lying a few yards away to his right. His heart leapt to his throat. Was that the woman? In this dim lighting, he couldn't tell for sure, but that was what she had been wearing. That guy – his friend – he wasn't what he pretended to be, was he?

_Oh god, am I gonna get it good for this_, he thought, very worried.

He broke into a slow jog, indifferent to any noise he caused now. He had to make it out, and soon.

Soon, he looked up and saw the exit – and something else. The door was closed, but in front of it...there she stood. She looked different. It took him several seconds to figure out that she was not wearing her own clothes anymore. She now had on...what his friend had on. And that could only mean that...

"He's out cold, by the way." She spoke. Her tone was icy.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, she did.

"Give me your access card."

His confidence – long overdue – now came flooding back. "Sweetheart, I don't think you're in a position to make them kind of demands."

A slow smile spread across her face, and she pulled out something small, about half the length of her index finger. "Your friend likes death sticks. He apparently lights 'em up like a fireworks festival on Coruscant."

He frowned, cockiness waning slightly. "_So?_ So what?"

"You like firework festivals?"

_The cow had gone man_, he decided. _What the hell was she going on about?_

"Since the limits of your brain do not allow for you to evaluate your current – and might I mention, dire – situation, let me illuminate things for you. So to speak." She chuckled to herself. "You're surrounded in what old miners would refer to as grade H gasoline. Highly unstable, extremely flammable fuel. I have, on my person, a catalyst that can set it all in motion."

The man's mouth parted, but no words came out.

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, "I'd be little worried if I were you too. Now give me that damned access card."

"You'll kill us both!" he yelled, finally able to find words.

"I'm capable of that, yes. But lucky for you, I'm quite rational when I need to be. See, I want to get out of here alive. And so do you. So we reach a mutual agreement. That's called a compromise, by the way. You give me that card and I won't set you on fire. What do you say?"

He nodded quickly and threw the card towards her. She caught it with her free hand. She smiled back at him as she clasped the card. "I knew that somewhere deep inside of that twisted little brain of yours lay a reasonable man,"

She turned around and slid the card through. As the door slid open, she felt the back of her skin crawl and turned around involuntarily. He stood where he was, but he held up a pistol and aimed it straight at her.

"You ain't going nowhere!"

She didn't have much time to react, really. The shot whizzed towards her and hit the wall to her right, missing her ear by only a few inches. Instinctively, she flicked the lighter on and flung it as hard as she could towards the man. With a deep _foomph_, the area around him ignited into flames. Within seconds the fire spread outwards, following its fuel to wherever it lay.

She stood still, staring at the whole event, watching him – moving about like a flaming demon.

The heat surged in her face, jolting her back to reality. Quickly, she slammed the door shut and flew up the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

As she leapt up the stairs awkwardly (there was something wrong with her left knee), thoughts flew into her mind in rapid succession. That shot. It could've killed her. _Next time, you neanderthal, you take away their weapons before you turn your back on them. What the heck is the matter with you, anyhow? Think clearly!_

She nodded to herself silently. Granted, that was a stupid move on her part, she'd have to put every little soldier in her mind on full alert.

She saw a door at the top of the stairs, light streaming in from a frosted window on it. She looked back down behind her and swallowed, disturbed. It wasn't the sight of the man on fire that had worried her. The fact of the matter remained that she had stared at the unfolding scenario with an eerie, detached curiousity. Was she turning back to that person from before? The one who had hurt Javin?

No, she decided – if at all, for her own consolation. And that's all she would think on the subject. Because for now, she had to focus on other matters.

She directed her attention forward and slid the access card through the security panel, just as before. The door opened, and she found herself in a large, white room. She looked about her dazedly. It was so immaculately white! What a stark contrast from the pits down below!

_Not now_, called out a voice inside of her. _Just try to orient yourself. There are two doors to your side_.

She walked up to them, and on closer inspection one appeared to be an elevator. The other obviously led to some other part of this building.

But which one will lead us outside?

She tried the door, but it was locked. She gave the access card a shot. The light on the paneling remained obstinately red. She tried it again and again, with no result.

_Oh God_, she realized slowly. _That fool had two cards. _How else could he have gotten through this place? This was the second stupid mistake she'd made. She tugged desperately at her hair, ideas of all sorts flitting about in her head. She could try the elevator or go back.

Go back, are you mad?

There could be more prisoners down there, maybe they could help.

Even a low rank soldier knows the drill: if you have a chance to escape from the enemy, you take it. You do not go back to free the masses on account of the very real possibility that you could be recaptured.

Scratch that. Try the elevator. She hit the button beside it only to be rewarded by an adamant beep. She hit it again.

And then she saw a panel of numbers next to it, and groaned.

Angry and terrified and worried, she wanted to jam the small knife she'd taken off that little fellow down below into the array of numbers. Aside from certain electrocution, though, it would not bring her much success. She moved towards the locked door again, tugging at it. Nothing. But as she stopped, she heard a noise, faint though it was, coming from the other side. She paused, listening intently. Ah, it was getting louder. They were coming this way.

Depending on who this person, or people, were and whether they were well-armed or not, this could potentially be a fortuitous or an extremely disastrous turn of events.

In any case, she had best try to look like she belonged. She moved quickly towards the elevator, and relaxed her shoulders. In the next moment, the door opened and she held her breath. She immediately glanced up casually at the numbers above the lift, while simultaneously looking out of the corner of her eye at this newcomer.

It was a woman, tall, and athletic-looking. She had, on her person, two holsters, in which sat two sturdy-looking blasters. She had on a bright red jacket that actually fit her, and some black trousers, with a small bulge just above her right ankle. Ah, recognized, Elori. A hidden pistol. Everything considered, this woman would not prove to be easy-pickings. If she had to do something, decided Elori, it would have to be done stealthily.

Slowly, she edged her way cautiously towards the woman who was about to open the door that led downstairs. The woman turned around and looked Elori up and down. Elori gave her her best attempt at a smile. Perhaps it was the teeth that did it, because the woman frowned, her hand moving towards her hip.

"Here, who are you?" she asked, her voiced seeped in that don't-give-me-any-funny-business crap.

"Here to check on the generator. Your boys called me down to have a look at it, but I can't seem to get in." She looked at the woman earnestly, hoping above all that her wide eyed expression did not make her seem deranged. "Maybe you can go down and see what the trouble is?"

"I'm here because I'm having a spot of bother with radio silence." said the woman. Her hand was touching her weapon now.

This was most definitely not good. _Keep talking, woman, keep talking!_ she urged herself. "You need any help?" And she moved forward, feigning innocence.

At this, the woman pulled out her blaster quicker than you could say _wraid_, and said "You stay right where you are, girlie!"

Elori froze, holding her hands up.

The woman was taking in Elori's demeanor and appearance more intently now, and her eyes suddenly widened as she caught a glimpse of Elori's bare feet. Her mind was occupied while trying put the pieces together, when a blow knocked the blaster out of her hand, sending it sliding across the floor. She immediately reached for her second weapon at her hip, when a firm hand locked her own into place.

"I don't think so," came Elori's voice.

The woman grabbed Elori's arm and twisted it, but Elori, the shorter of the pair, held on fast. She stuck a leg in between the woman's own, bring her crashing to the ground. But her assailant was just as eager to come out on top as she was. The woman swung both legs, knocking them hard into Elori's, and it wasn't long before she too was brought to the floor.

_Disarm, disarm!_ cried out a voice in Elori's head.

Simultaneously trying to dodge the woman's punches, she dove for the woman's blaster near her hip. If she had the time, she would have pulled out that small knife, but perhaps it was best that it – along with that other tranquilizer pistol – remain hidden for now. After a series of grunts and inadvertent curses, Elori had managed to jerk the stubborn blaster away from its holster and sent it flinging across the ground just as its counterpart had seconds before. The small pistol, too, had become dislodged from its holster during the scuffle, and clattered across the floor away from either woman's reach.

"_You bitch!_" screamed the woman, and rewarded Elori with a stunning blow to her chin.

She was sent reeling backwards, and blinked stupidly, trying to gather her wits. She saw the woman get up and stumble away from her, possibly trying to reach one of her lost weapons.

_Now_, she told herself.

Still seated, and with her legs out in front of her, she pulled out her tranquilizer pistol and aimed it at the woman's behind. "Freeze, you schutta!"

The woman paid no heed to the warning and kept moving.

"_I said: freeze!_" With that, Elori pulled the trigger and watched as the dart slammed into the thigh of her assailant.

The woman grunted and fell to the floor. She quickly reached behind her and yanked out the dart with a scream. She turned to look at Elori and threw her a furious stare.

"Yeah?" spoke Elori, getting up and wiping the blood that dribbled down her chin. "Well maybe next time you'll listen better!"

"I don't listen to half-brain sprites like yourself!" spat the woman. And then she moved her face near her right shoulder, talking into something strapped to it. "Get me some bloody backup! She's out – the Jedi's out! Send in the freakin' calvary!" She looked back up at Elori defiantly.

Elori set her jaw and moved slowly towards the woman, shaking her head. "Oh _bitch_, you should _not_ have done that."

She raised the pistol and fired a shot into the woman's left shoulder, and then moved the weapon a few inches to her right, and let out another shot into her right shoulder. A few seconds later, Elori strode over to her and yanked the radio off. She stepped away and tied the radio to her own person.

"As I have been led to believe, it's going to be a little while before your system says goodnight. And when it does, you're going to be dreaming for a couple of hours...at least. So let's talk." Elori moved to one corner of the room where the woman's blaster lay and picked it up. She walked towards the second one and tucked it in her pants. "What is this place?"

The woman stayed silent. Eyes following Elori's every move.

"The tranquilizers will give you a sleep you can wake up from. The blasters won't. _Now what is this place?_"

The woman bit her lip before answering. "You'll never make it out alive. There are going to be so many after your ass, and this place is so _huge_ – you'd have to be able to teleport to escape. But what a pity such technology hasn't been developed yet, wouldn't you say?"

Elori let out a deep breath. She raised her weapon, the blaster this time. "They say that the most dangerous animal is not the biggest, or the bravest, or the fiercest. It's the one who's cornered who'll fight to the death. So you really ought to choose your words carefully. Because already, I've done in two of your men. And now, here you are, lying on the floor, almost limp, in front of me. What makes you think I'm going to stop now?"

The woman swallowed nervously.

"_Tell me what this place is_."

"It's an abandoned military base."

"Where?"

"Alderaan. You're on Alderaan."

Elori nodded slowly. "Good. How big of a base are we talking?"

"Fifty sublevels below ground." Her words began to slur slightly. The tranquilizer was beginning to work its way through her system.

Elori knew she didn't have much time. "Who put me in here?"

The woman chuckled. "How the hell would I know? I only follow orders; I do what I'm told."

"Surely you must have some idea; you don't strike me to be as dumb as your counterparts." She squeezed the trigger slightly for effect.

The woman looked away and sighed in frustration. "_Exchange_, okay? We're Exchange."

"You collecting a bounty? Bringing me all the way from Corellia to Alderaan, and locking me up in a military base of all places...must be a tidy sum your benefactors have got lined up for you. Who's topping the bill?"

"I'm telling you the truth. I have no freakin' idea."

The radio, now strapped to Elori's shoulder, crackled to life.

"_Copy that. Squad's coming down there on the double. Hold your horses, Layla._"

The woman, Layla, grinned back up at Elori. "Tick tock."

Elori's eyes narrowed, ignoring her. "You don't think it's funny, them making you go to so much trouble over one lousy Jedi?"

"I'm feeling a little woozy, _Jedi_. So if you don't mind, me and mine would like to go to bed now." Despite the woman's valiant efforts at staying alert, the tranquilizer was on its course to completing its task.

"Tell me the code to use the elevator," said Elori, bending down and grabbing the woman by the collar of her jacket.

"Two-oh-four-seven-nine-three. Wow. That's some strong stuff you gave me..." her head lolled backwards before she jerked it up again.

Elori yanked her collar upwards. "Is this the same code for every door on all the levels?"

"'Course not. There's a bunch of exits. Guarded though. All of 'em."

"Which floors are they on?"

"Um...sub-level twelve, twenty-one and something else...can't remember,"

"What are the codes!" yelled Elori, trying to grab the woman's attention, and her focus.

"You can't. There aren't no codes. My passcard'll give you access to lotsa levels in the compound, but to get out...and in...you gotta have voice activation."

"_Voice activation_..." muttered Elori, her voice hollow.

"Haha...you lose, Jedi."

With that, the woman slumped onto the floor, unconscious.

* * *

The blonde woke up first. She let out a yawn and propped herself up in bed. She gave a quick look towards her sleeping companion next to her and planted her bare feet on the floor. Letting out a contented sigh, she rose and made her way towards the bathroom.

Her companion, roused by the movement, stirred before lazily opening up his eyes. Through sleepy vision, he saw his partner stroll away from him, and shut his eyes in realization.

_He'd done it again, hadn't he?_

As if to echo his thoughts, the woman called out to him. "What d'you want for breakfast, Jaq?"

He mumbled something incoherent to himself, which caused her to repeat the question. His response was a little less than friendly. "Isn't it afternoon, anyway? Don't you need to be somewhere?"

There was no immediate reply, but her footsteps across the floor grew louder, and she stood beside the bed, arms folded across her chest, frowning. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her again. She was a beautiful woman, there was no doubt there. Flawless skin, mesmerizing blue eyes, naturally silky blonde hair, and a body that left many of his kind coming back night after night. What wasn't to like?

" – for, is that it?" she finished saying.

Damn! Had he let the words fly by again? That bloody Juma. It had caused him to make far too many, how should he put it, _uninformed_ decisions. He'd have his last one tonight. And that was it. Promise.

"You haven't been listening to a thing I've said, have you?" she scolded.

"Aw honey, I just woke up, and after a couple too many glasses of Juma too..." He rubbed the back of his neck and winced for effect.

"I'm trying to make breakfast for us both, and you want me to clear out. That's what you said. I heard it."

"Now I don't think I said it in so rough of a tone," he began to protest.

"You filth!" shouted the woman, her eyes blazing. "You got what you wanted and now it's so long, huh? I don't even know why I put out for you!"

Jaq looked back up at her, and spoke, throwing caution to the wind. "Well you know...you are one of Rodha's girls...and to put it delicately, that's what you get paid to do,"

"But not for _you_, you pus-filled Bantha! I don't consider _you_ a customer!"

He rolled his eyes and sighed. Lesson learned. No more Juma. No more drugs. No more bloody women. He got up from the bed, and began to put on his trousers. She hit him decidedly with a pillow. Both feet in one leg, he lost his balance and fell, hitting the side of his head on the nightstand.

Alright, that was the last straw. Seeing this blonde all riled up could only give him his kicks for so long.

He got up and threw her a look that shut her up. "Listen, sister, when you got involved with me, I laid out the ground rules for you – nice and simple. You said 'yeah, that's exactly what I'm looking for too. No problem. No problem at all.' And now, you're bouncing off the walls trying to pin something on me that ain't my fault. If you got these stupid feelings for me, my best suggestion for you, sweetheart, is one," he held his index finger up, "go take a cold shower. Two," he held two fingers up, "go find yourself a nice boy and get yourself hitched."

With that, he strode away from her in the direction of the kitchen. But his words, apparently, were not much of a dissuasion. Because he soon heard her trotting behind him. When he turned around to confront her, her face was drawn, an effect of obvious confusion stirring within her.

"I thought you were a nice boy," she said in a small voice.

Jaq stared at her, a little taken aback by her expression and her words, and then let out a sarcastic chuckle. "That has _got_ to be the biggest croc I've heard in ages."

"Jaq, you told me last night," at this, a tear rolled down her cheek. "You told me that you didn't love her all along. That she was right and that there was someone else for you. You meant me, didn't you?"

Eh? Now where the hell did all this gibberish come from? This broad must've been reading too many romance novels in her spare time. Whatever he'd done, whatever he'd said was an obvious side effect of chemicals and cocktails. Thank god he rarely mixed the two during pazaak matches. He'd be down on some serious credits if that were the case.

He held up his hands defensively and tried to soften his tone for her benefit. "Honey, listen...hey now, don't cry, okay? Whatever you feel for me, I can't reciprocate. I'm just...not built that way. That's the truth. The other obvious truth is that I'm a stupid, insensitive cad who deserves to be washed into the gutter. You need to do something now. You need to do right by yourself and forget about me. Trust me. The worst bloke on this planet is starlight in comparison to me."

She looked up him in silence for several moments, hoping he'd have a change of heart. When she saw that it wasn't forthcoming, she let out a sob and turned around. Within minutes, she had packed up her things and had slammed the door behind her.

Drained by the recent events, Jaq flopped down onto a couch and stared up at the ceiling. "_Starlight in comparison to me_...where _do_ you pick up these sayings, you piece of scum?" he muttered, chortling to himself.

He had been seated like that for only a few minutes when he heard a knock on the door. He closed his eyes, hoping that the sound would subside. It didn't.

"What!" he yelled, not removing himself from his comfortable position.

"It's me, Ges!" came back the muffled voice.

"Whatever you want, I'm not buying! It's because of _you_ I have a headache the size of Nal Hutta!"

"For god's sake, Jaq, open the door will ya?"

Jaq reluctantly rose from his seat and opened the door equally slowly. A green-skinned Twi'lek stared back at him, his eyes wide and his voice urgent. He pushed past Jaq into the flat and shut the door himself. He walked quickly into Jaq's own kitchen and motioned for the other man to sit down opposite him.

Ges looked around the small flat, and cocked an eyebrow. "Damned nice place you got here...did your granny die and leave you some money?"

His face remained bland. "I got it from a former Republic soldier who was looking to sell. Never bothered to redecorate this place in Juma tones." He sighed, "Now look. You obviously didn't come all the way down here to talk interior design."

"You're right," said Ges, leaning in. "I have a proposition for you, old boy. If you want the credits to do up this place in Juma tones, as you put it, I got a good way for you to earn it."

"I'm listening," said Jaq, and then his eyes narrowed and he held a hand up. "Wait a minute. Something doesn't add up. When you came into this flat, you looked downright spooked. Is someone gunning you down for credits? Do you want me to deal with them – is that the job?"

"What? No! Not at all like that. It's just that, well..."

"Well _what_, Ges?" said Jaq, impatient now.

"You'll like this job. It's right up your alley. And what's better, you get ten thousand credits now, and fifty thousand on closure."

"_What's the job, Ges_." repeated Jaq, his voice a monotone. He watched as the Twi'lek's hand twitched involuntarily. The man was obviously nervous about something.

"Remember, back on Korriban...when I gave you that piece of information that saved your proverbial behind?" At this, Jaq nodded, and Ges continued. "You said you owed me one. And now I've come to...um...that is, collect."

Jaq leaned back in his seat, and slung one arm over the top of the chair. "In other words, this isn't a job. It's an offer I can't refuse."

"Well, you can refuse. If you want to see parts of me scattered from here to the outer rim. Yeah. You can back out if that's what you want."

"Okay." Jaq let out a small laugh. "I now understand your sense of urgency. But why me? You can have your pick of any mercenary or bounty hunter! They can do things with a loaded weapon that I can only do with a stack of pazaak cards. I mean, I _know_ this is Alderaan, and the Republic's seal is stamped on everyone's ass, but you're a resourceful guy!"

"No, Jaq. I don't need them. I need _you_. First off, this problem I have, it's here. On Alderaan. And I need it contained. You're here, and other renowned bounty hunters and their sweet cousins aren't. Second, it's like I said. This is your territory. No one can do it like you can."

"I have a bad feeling about this..." Jaq stared at his friend warily.

"Just listen to what I have to say, will you?"


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note:

Alright. This chapter is a little longer than most, so please bear with me. The following chapter is short, and was the best I could do for now. My muse wants to move onto to a movie I've got sitting by my desk.

Thanks for reading and reviewing, she says.

* * *

The men moved through the corridors silently, not talking amongst themselves anymore. The chatter had died down some after they'd received no word from Layla for the past twenty minutes. Going down the elevator, they shuffled their feet, glancing up and down, waiting a little impatiently for their floor. Finally, the elevator came to a halt, and the party of ten moved out.

The first, and obvious leader, stepped out and looked around him. He shouldered his assault rifle snugly, and held out his free hand to his comrade. "Give me the shells." His friend, a little heavier-built than him, did as instructed. The leader opened she side panel of the rifle and inserted each shell carefully into the cartridge, one after the other. He worked quickly as each of his team moved out around him, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. With a _click_, he locked the cartridge into place and beckoned for his men to gather round.

"Alright. For those of you equipped with blasters, I can't emphasize this enough: set 'em on stun. Those with trank rifles, listen up. These shells don't come cheap, so don't shoot unless you're positive you've got a clear shot. Keep the safety on at all times. Because despite these tranquilizers being meant for animals – we're talking ten ton critters here. If you have yourself a little accident, keep in mind that it'll be lights out 'fore you know you've shot yourself, and –"

A blond head poked around a muscled shoulder and addressed the man in charge. "Drek? If these tranks can knock out a Bantha, won't that kill her?"

Drek smiled. Being a mercenary for more than twenty years now, he'd gone through his fair share of partnerships, teammates and other such associations that the profession demanded. And through that, he'd encountered a broad spectrum of people. Most of them, he had to admit, were about average. But some could be downright stupid. Stupidity brought with it carelessness, and he'd sweat buckets trying to work with people on this end of the spectrum, not for their sake, but his. On the other hand, he'd encountered folks who were as shrewd as they came – always three or four steps ahead of their quarry. At which end did this fellow belong, then?

Drek stepped to a side, trying to get a better look at this chap. To his surprise, he saw a boy, most likely no more than eighteen. Yup, decided Drek, this one was sharp. And gutsy to question orders too. He decided he liked him.

"Yeah," he answered, "normally you'd assume so. But these tranks have been designed to knock you out good, not kill you. Or so I've been told. But don't let's go testing this stuff on ourselves, alright?" He saw the boy nod, contented, and continued speaking. "You kids have been briefed. You should know the layout by now; which sections we're covering. If you're unsure, now's the time."

"Hey Drek," piped out a voice from behind, "You sure it's these catacombs we're supposed to be in and not the spice bar down the road? 'Coz I was sure our maps said otherwise man,"

A soft wave of chuckles spread amongst the ten men.

Drek, too, let out a laugh before finally becoming serious. "Just stay alert, alright guys? To put it simply, if this kid knocked Layla's lights out, we've got more than just a stray cat to rope in. Got it?"

The men nodded and mumbled a chorus of yes.

"Then let's move out. Blasters, stay in front. Tranks, follow my lead and let's keep it tight. Check your corners no matter what your grandma said about ghoulies. We're going to close off every exit in this quadrant, till this cat's got no place left to go."

* * *

They moved stealthily down the wide hallway, muscles taut, ears ever-attentive and eyes peeled. Soon they made their way to the room from which they'd last heard from their comrade, Layla. Coming up on the door, Drek moved out in front, taking the lead. He motioned for the rest of his small team to stay behind, and flung the door to one side with his left hand, keeping his rifle pointed straight ahead of him. He ignored the body on the floor, proceeding to make a clean sweep of the room. He glanced up at the elevator, and muttered an obscenity under his breath. He then called out to his compatriots. "Clear!"

The nine men shuffled in, and on seeing Layla's prostrate form on the floor, built up a steady flow of chatter amongst one another.

Drek quickly intervened, now was not the time for distractions. "She's not dead, you dolts. She's got a dart sticking out of her shoulder." He moved quickly towards the elevator and punched in a series of numbers in quick succession.

"How'd she get a dart?" someone ventured.

"She got shot by the Jedi, didn't she – you _dumbass_." offered someone helpfully.

"I realize that," scowled the former, "I don't understand how the Jedi got the darts though...hey, this ain't the same stuff we're using, is it?"

"Shut it, Cleaver!" shouted Drek, annoyed. "Of course it isn't! This kid's on the move," he gestured for them to gather around the lift. "The elevator's heading up...can only mean we missed her by a couple of seconds."

"So we're done then?" asked someone from behind him eagerly. "If she's moved to another section, it's the other team's responsibility, innit?"

Drek clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself from knocking the layabout across the face. "I just recalled the elevator," he said slowly, "so it's going to come back down to this floor, with the Jedi in it and intact. All you boys have to do is point, and shoot. Is that too difficult for you lot to follow?"

He looked at their faces, which had quickly gone from downcast to eager. "Just try to restrain yourselves, okay lads? Once you've got two shots in her, pull back."

As the elevator moved down steadily towards its floor, silence resumed, and only the occasional sounds of a heavy breath or a mouth chewing on spice could be heard. Finally, the damned contraption reached its destination, and its doors parted slowly, to reveal...nothing. No Jedi.

Drek, his mouth open in disbelief, moved forward cautiously, his weapon pointed upwards in case she intended to get the drop on him. But there was nothing there save for some removed paneling, and ah...that was it. A neat square hole directly above him now. Big enough for even him to fit through.

_Nice move, Jedi_, he thought to himself, shaking his head bemusedly.

* * *

She made her way up the shaft slowly, but steadily. She used the clamps that held the electrical wiring in place as footholds, and clung on to the thick, insulated wires to keep her from falling backwards. In between her teeth, she held the small knife. It had proved to be a good companion when she had to pry the overhead panels loose. The blaster had done the job of melting the bolts that locked them down.

Her heart had lurched along with the lift when it had stopped and begun to move downwards. There was not much else to be done really. She couldn't cut her way through the floor, and the only way out was up top.

But she was far from safe. If that lift began to move up now, chances were that it would catch her like the front of a moving speeder and sandwich her neatly between it and the roof of the shaft. Not a good way to go. Which was why she had to double her efforts to get away from it as quickly as she could.

Elori glanced over her shoulder downwards. No movement there. She looked back up, and resumed climbing.

Her hand gripped a ledge, and she quickly pulled herself up. The doors were shut, but they could be opened. They had to. She stuck her fingers in the crevice, and tugged. She heard the metal groaning, and she pulled harder... Feeling a sharp pain shoot out along her right arm, she gave an involuntary gasp, allowing for the knife to drop from her mouth – bounce against the metal wall and into the shaft below. Fingers, still trying to pry the doors apart, she squeezed her eyes shut and pulled with all her might.

There!

Peeking out from behind hesitant eyelids, she saw that the doors had parted. She stuck her hand through, her body following close behind. Somewhat awkwardly, she managed to contort herself through the narrow and stifling opening, and it wasn't long before she stood on the other side, gasping for breath.

She found herself in yet another long corridor; except it was of a better standard than the previous one. Randomly, she chose to go left, and as soon as she had made her decision, bright orange fire ripped past her ears. She craned her neck a fraction, and saw the silhouette of a person framed at the end of the hallway. Somewhat involuntarily, she turned to face her attacker, walking backwards as she did so.

They regarded each other for a second, and Elori shook her head slowly, pleading with the figure who held what was obviously some kind of large weapon.

_No..._

The figure raised its rifle and fired for the second time. Almost falling flat on her face, Elori spun and stumbled forward, hearing nothing but the sound of her own ragged breath. She ran wildly for what seemed like forever, knowing full well that it wasn't going to be one on one anymore. They had strength in numbers, and they knew this place. They were going to flush her out – like a rat.

And like a rat, she scrambled forward, trying every door she could – there was no time to punch in numbers, no time to swipe that damned card. She felt a something akin to a razor slash against the side of her thigh, and placed her hand quickly against it and kept on running. The hallways and corridors began to blur together like one tremendously long, barren road. Something pounded inside her head, for a split second she thought it was Yura, and that this was a trick of the mind.

No trick, though.

Inevitably, she came to a dead end and skidded to a halt. She turned around slowly, and pulled out her pistols, one in each hand. What else was there to do? Her hands trembling, she held her breath and waited. Any minute now...

A blast of air blew against her sweaty head, and she regarded the vent from which it stemmed as if this were the first time she'd seen anything like it. In a flash, she pounced on the vent grating, shooting its bolts out like they were the eyes that hunted her.

"_Oh baby_," she muttered to herself, as she flung herself in – feet first – down the duct.

* * *

She slid and slipped without much grace down the metal duct, and hit its wall with a sound in between a clang and a thud. Seeing light beyond her – an opening, she recognized – she crawled on her elbows and knees towards it. She kicked out the grating this time, and jumped out. Getting up quickly, and trying to take stock of these new surroundings, she found herself to be in some kind of room...filled with...cleaning droids. There was only one soft florescent light, and it cast eerie shadows across the small room. The door at the other end was shut, thank heavens, and apart from her and her little deactivated companions, she was alone, and safe for now.

Safe for now.

Suddenly it hit her. The panic touched the fear, which tagged the rage, which struck the pain. She pushed herself back up against the wall and hit her head repeatedly against it. She felt a lump welling up in her throat, and she let out a muted wail, sinking down to the floor as she did so.

Where was the Force now? She'd believed it to be returning, but it gave her no guidance in this hellhole. Everything that she'd done, every trick that broke her loose, was from her. Not from the goddamned Force. There was nothing out there to bail her out, nothing tangible, save her wits to cling to. She gazed at her feet splayed out in front of her.

_I have my body. And my thoughts...and myself. And that should be enough. _

_Why isn't that enough?_

A stifled sob suddenly tore through her body. She permitted its intrusion, which led to a succession of cries, more steady – but demanding to be released. She let them rock her body, intermittently trying to remind herself to cry softer...not so loud. But cessation had not yet come, and she had absolutely no control over the emotions that wanted to rip her sanity to shreds. A wet patch began to form over the front of her jacket, and unsightly snot emerged from her nose.

_Make it stop_, she pleaded, _oh god...make it stop_.

She stared up at the darkened ceiling, and cursed it. "What would you have me do? Break my oath to myself now too? Leave me alone, just leave me alone..."

Tired and exhausted, she allowed for her body to go limp. She sat there staring vacantly through reddened eyes before finally letting sleep throw its calming blanket over her.

* * *

**TEN MONTHS AGO...**

**DAGOBAH**

Elori stood outside of the mud hut, arms folded across each other. The rain that fell came down upon the pair in drenching sheets, soaking through each layer of clothing they had on. The almost unbearable humidity, mingled with heat, stirred in with the wet weather seemed to have no effect on the shorter of the pair.

Yura hopped busily from branch to branch of a tree outside her home, tying planks of wood attached to rope to them. Huffing and puffing, she finally descended from the gnarled trunks, and stood at the foot of the tree, grinning from ear to ear. She walked towards to Elori and patted the back of the younger woman's knee – the highest place the gnome could reach without leaping.

"Hungry, are you?" she asked.

Elori grunted. Of course she was hungry. She hadn't eaten for two bloody days. She stared at the hanging planks of wood and frowned. What new device of torture had this little being contrived this time?

"Eat you can, on completing this task." She pushed Elori gently forward.

"What do you want me to do." said Elori, in a monotone, indifferent.

Yura paid no attention, pointing with a certain degree of glee towards the tree. "Stand amidst those branches, you will. Do no stray away from the tree. Yes," spoke Yura, as Elori moved slowly to take her place. "Do not rely on the Force. Therein lies your strength."

"My head hurts." complained Elori.

"Of course it does!" exclaimed Yura as she gave an excited hop. "Empty is your belly, starved is your mind for sustenance! Desperate you have become, frantic will be your actions. Tame them. Yes. Channel your energy, as it spreads outwards in so many directions – into one. Because this is when most important, it is, for you to keep yourself. Do not become lost. For your enemies are opportunistic. Strike at you, they will, when you least expect it."

At that, a plank behind Elori's field of vision swung forward violently, hitting her squarely between the shoulders. She stumbled forward with a cry.

"Hey!" she yelled, realizing what had happened. "You said no using the Force!"

"You no use the Force! I, however, can! Rules are simple. Do not let any of your foes touch you, deflect them, if you must. But if one touches you, catches you unawares, you lose. And no dinner for you tonight. Now commence, says Yura."

Instantly, all the planks began to sway violently and unpredictably. Elori tried to leap away from them to a safer spot, but soon found out that there was no safe ground – she had set up far too many planks, and each being strapped to the tree at various heights didn't help. In the midst of her breathing and the swishing of air around her ears, she heard the small creature yell.

"No food! You want to eat? Then you fight for it!"

Her stomach let out a pathetic growl, and Elori snarled. Damn these pieces of wood. They would only stop coming if they were in splinters. And if they were out of the picture, she could eat. It was as simple as that. She spun around, driving her elbow neatly into one that swung too close to her head, and with her other arm she drove her fist through it. In the next instant, two of the boards attempted to come at her from either side, seeking to sandwich her head in between. She rolled out of the way, and pirouetted neatly on her back leg yanking the two boards down by their tethers simultaneously.

In the midst of her movements, came something else. Something different. Some would categorize them as visions, but to her, they emerged as thoughts and shaped ideas. She knew, immediately, that they were her own, but that something else had given them more realism. A pain from the past, fleshed out into the feeling of loss flashed through her mind. She barely missed an oncoming plank then. The next few thoughts that proceeded were more intense, more violent. She felt a madness that she had only experienced at end of Malachor V, and lost her grip on the present. She spun around in confusion, trying to ward off these new storms.

_Calm yourself, you must_, came Yura's voice. _Face all your enemies, past, present and future – at the same time, is not possible. With all the training in the galaxy, this cannot be done._

_But face them, one at a time, can be accomplished. Search for your goal. Be it primal, or instinctive, a goal it is. Run towards it. _

_What is your goal?_

To get food into my stomach.

_Simple. Easy. Start running. _

Suddenly it was clear. The images, the desires and emotions, melted to give way to one want. But there were still hurdles to face. In the moments that followed, every physical obstacle seemed to be rushing at her at once. And unlike the times when she had command of the Force, she could not sense their movements. The only way she could twist away or sink her fist into one was if she remained calm and kept only one need in her mind. As her breathing slowed to an almost normal pace, all her senses danced together in perfect formation. The gentle brush of wind against her forearm was an indication of movement from her right. The soft sound of swathing through the air – even in this downpour – spoke to warn her of an attack from behind. Quick were her movements, which spoke of desperation tamed. There was an end. And this was her means.

Finally, when all the planks lay in splinters and shards around her, she stopped, panting. She stood there, with her legs apart and arms ready to ward off more attacks for several seconds. She knew, that if the Force was in full flow through her, she would be aware if the danger had passed. But her link to it was weak, and as per Yura's instructions, she did not dare use what little command she had.

Her body remaining still, her eyes tracked Yura's movements. The creature's ears rose briefly, and then she turned, hobbling back into her home.

Immediately, Elori was off guard, and she called out to her friend. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"To make you dinner." spoke Yura amidst the clashing of rain.

Elori's face broke out into a smile and she followed happily behind.

* * *

**THE PRESENT...**

When she opened her eyes, her stomach let out a tremendous rumble. Grunting, she used both her hands to prop herself up into straighter position. She stared dumbly at each of the cleaning droids, trying to gather her wits, attempting to piece this new event into its sequence. Ah yes. The ventilation duct.

Elori scratched her side unceremoniously and looked above her. The grating from the vent was gone, and lay next to her on the floor.

_I say_, came a voice, _how long do you think it will take 'em to go through the blueprints of this building?_

_Blueprints?_

_Yes, of course. They must obviously know you squirmed your way through the duct. They're going to go back to basic schematics. This room will be in them, you know._

_Oh hell..._

She took in a deep breath, and spoke aloud, in an attempt to calm herself. "Come on. _Come on_. You wanna cry and scream and rant? You might as well make some placards and parade around out there for what that's worth. Get up, you silly little twat."

She struggled to her feet, and felt something sore on her thigh. She looked down and caught a glimpse of a deep gash through her trousers – cauterized though – because it had been singed by laser fire.

"You know," she said out loud again and looking purposefully away from the wound, "I could do with a good meal."

Something inside her suddenly smiled.

_I can't deal with everything that's happened the last couple of days, sweetheart, but satiating your hunger's something I could start working on. And if that means getting out of this junk pile, then I'm all for it. _

"So now we have an end," smiled Elori.

* * *

"Just think about it, will ya?" said the Twi'lek as he swerved the speeder around the sharp turn.

Wincing at Ges' rough command of the speeder, _and_ the road, Jaq gripped his seat tightly. But his voice betrayed nothing except for a certain degree of annoyance. "Of course I have to think about it now! You practically slung me onto your back and threw me in here!"

Ges turned and winked at his friend. "Aw baby, I love it when you get feisty!"

"Now you know exactly what I mean! Hey watch it!" he yelped, as Ges barely missed another oncoming speeder.

Ges' face suddenly grew serious. "Hey man, you know I wouldn't be asking you to risk your ass if I didn't think it was important,"

"There is a considerable difference here, Ges!" exclaimed Jaq, pointing at him emphatically with his finger. "You know that if your butt was in the pan, I'd leap in and bail you out without a question. But it's not, is it? Despite all your melodrama back in my flat, all you're gonna be short of is a few thousand credits. Look at the situation from a logical perspective, dammit! Grab your gear and lay low for a while if you're so scared. In a couple months, they won't even remember your name."

"The Exchange never forgets," said Ges dramatically.

Jaq shook his head and laughed in frustration. "What the heck are you on about? You've been watching far too many action holovids. This is _not_ your problem. You delivered the goods and it's up to them to contain it! If they lose this kid, then they don't deserve to keep him holed up."

"It's a _she_," corrected Ges, and then continued on hurriedly as Jaq shot him a look that told him, quite fiercely, that he really didn't give a damn. "...it's my reputation, Jaq. After that little release of information that," he cleared his throat, "saved your life in Dreshdae, I've been on the run for the past year and a half. Been trying to build myself up. It's been hard work – my name didn't carry much credibility back then."

"And it does now?" scoffed Jaq.

Ges nodded quickly. "Of course it does." he asserted. "I'm working with the Exchange! Do you have any idea what that means?"

"Utopia?" muttered Jaq with sarcasm.

"In the underground world – yes! If this thing worked out well, these guys can spread a good word about me over town. I'll be the guy people can turn to if they need something contained. I'll be dependable, reliable,"

" – you'll be loaded." added Jaq.

"Exactly." And then he turned to his friend, his eyes earnest. "Look. Let me lay it all out on the line for you. You're right – about me over-dramatizing the situation. If I were you, seated there across from me, I'd have to agree. But ever since Davik Kang got erased, rumour has it that the top dog is a little less tame, less reasonable, than his predecessor. Let's just say that this one – should something go wrong – foams at the mouth. And I sure as hell don't wanna get bitten."

Jaq shrugged his shoulders, trying to be equally earnest. "I just don't see how this little escapee is your problem!"

"It's not!" screamed Ges, finally getting angry. "But the head of the Exchange doesn't give a crap! He can't knock over his own men – you see, that's bad for business – he'll just hand me to the firing squad instead! But if I can help, if I can calm the storm..."

Jaq shook his head again and turned away, looking at the passing traffic. He wanted to leap into any one of the speeders that flashed by; it would be a whole lot easier than being part of this conversation. It made him think of things he'd rather not be thinking of. It made him unearth memories that had been buried underneath layers of dirt. Going back to it all – didn't seem to fit. Wasting his life on pazaak, alcohol and women...even that alternative seemed better. It was why he'd come here, really. No one who knew him would think to look under the Republic's nose. He wanted to spend the remainder of his life here. Even if that meant getting stoned, waking up next to someone he'd never seen before, or being found dead in his flat months after, this was comfortable...it was something he was willing to deal with. It was a way towards numbness.

Something stung his eyes, and they briefly grew moist.

Reluctantly, he looked at Ges. And when he spoke, his voice was low. Ges had to listen intently just to hear him speak. "I can't...do it. I don't think I can squeeze the trigger and watch 'em fall anymore." Jaq stopped there. There were more words he wanted to let out, to have said, but they echoed in his mind instead. _A long time ago, it was just a body count_, he thought. _But towards the end, they began to catch up with me. They demanded my sanity, but I couldn't give it to them_. _It's really all I had left, see? And now, if we start this...I have to face them again_. _It's that simple_.

Ges remained silent for a few minutes, as they made their way quickly through the traffic. Finally, just as the sun had begun to set behind them, he spoke.

"You don't have to." His voice sounded sad. "I didn't know, heck, I'm sorry Jaq. I had no idea. Let's...let's just turn this crate 'round and I'll drop you back off at your place, okay?"

Jaq quickly placed an arm on his friend's shoulder. "Wait. I know...I know that this could make you or break you. Look man, you're the damned closest thing to a friend I've got." He sighed and leaned into the speeder's upholstery. "Tell ya what. I'll help them find her. But that's as far as I'm willing to go."

Ges' eyes lit up, but his voice remained calm. "You're sure about this?"

He nodded. "I don't want to wake up to news of a robbery gone wrong and see your disfigured face on the news. Could ruin my winning streak." And then he narrowed his eyes. "But I won't sign no contract, and I bloody will _not_ be held responsible if she slips her head out of the noose."

Ges grinned. "Buddy. If you're the one who's tracking her down, she's the one with a problem."

Jaq said nothing.

* * *

The pair were escorted into a large, oval room. Its floor was covered with a dirty blue training mat. Along parts of the wall, lay rusted metal bars and thin, worn ropes. It was an underused gymnasium of sorts, and Jaq guessed that this bunch did not do much contorting. His boots squeaked softly over the mat, and he took his place with Ges alongside about seven or eight men.

Each of them shouldered some heavy duty rifles, but judging from the way they shuffled about and handled these weapons, Jaq doubted that they knew the ins and outs of operating this kind of weaponry. They packed a powerful punch, sure, but they were bulky, crude and cranky when it came to being reloaded. The jolt one could received from one of these babies after firing – if misloaded especially – was liable to land you flat on your back. Personally, Jaq preferred something light and dependable; he'd rather a good blaster at his side than ten of those giant misfiring vegetables.

One of the men stepped forward on seeing Ges. He sported more than an average ten o' clock shadow, and dark patches adorned the area underneath his grey eyes. He seemed tired and worn, and his dirty blond hair had obviously seen better days. Perhaps he'd underestimated this lot, Jaq thought. This chap looked a little more experienced, and slightly less anticipatory of action than most of his comrades. Smart fellow.

"You the guy come down here to help sort this out?" he spoke, addressing Ges. His voice was low, and a little raspy.

"Yeah...yeah, I uh...helped arranged the transport from Corellia to here. Who am I gonna be working with?"

"Keelan," the man said, offering his hand. "I understand you've been doing this kinda thing for a while."

Ges regarded him blankly for a moment, and then snapped in reality with a grin. "Oh! No, no, that's not my specialty," Jaq winced inwardly as Ges spoke. "My companion here. He's the one you want."

Keelan shifted his gaze from Ges to Jaq, and looked back and forth from the pair. _You've got to be shittin' me_, thought Keelan. _Has this pup even been weaned?_ With an awkward attempt at politeness, he offered Jaq his hand. "Well. I guess I'm not much of a judge of character am I? I sure hope you're as good your friend here claims."

Jaq flashed a quick, phony smile.

Ges rubbed his hands together, "Right! Let's get down to it then, eh?"

A slow anger began to simmer underneath Jaq's chest, and he wondered if he'd made the right choice. And then he pushed the doubt to one side. He was here and the best thing now was to get it finished as soon as possible. In five hours time he wanted to be back at the cantina with a deck in his hands, and credits soon to be his on the table.

Keelan gestured Jaq to a small table in the corner of the room. On it, lay several empty bottles. He roughly moved the bottles to one side, some clattered to the mat and rolled away. He pulled out a disk from the inside of his jacket and put it on the table. From his pocket, he fished out a tacky-looking datapad.

"Alright, kid. Load that map onto that datapad, and keep it on you at all times. This place can be a bloody maze when it wants to, and the last thing you want to be is as lost as that Jedi."

Jaq raised his eyebrows. This bloke thought he had him all figured out. He'd obviously had him pinned as some kind of rookie in this business, and had decided that he would be doing most of the explaining and directing. Not that he was stuffed with feathers of his own ego either, he just seemed tired. And more likely than not, he wasn't too happy at the thought of having one more inexperienced chick to join the flock. Quickly, Jaq decided that he'd have to relieve the fellow of his woes.

"Thanks. But I'm going to need the blueprints of this place too. And we're going to need some tranks, gas masks, gas mines, and more blasters and fewer rifles. Especially if you want to get this bitch alive."

Keelan regarded the younger man in a new light. He spoke slower, and with a little more respect. "We're working on the blueprints right now... But we've got some gas mines and gas grenades –"

" – no grenades," interrupted Jaq, "grenades give off too much sound and they're kind of messy to deal with. Are your boys trained in demolitions? Last thing we want is to take them down with the Jedi,"

Keelan smiled slowly, a little relieved. Maybe he didn't need to hold the leash on this kid after all. "Yeah. They're good with 'em. It's just that catching Jedi isn't their specialty. Like your friend said."

"Well, that's why I'm here." Jaq let out a breath. "Right. Before we get ahead of ourselves, I'll need to know a little more about your prisoner. How long has she been in here?"

"'Bout three months now. Nearly."

"How often have you fed her?"

Keelan looked to a side, thinking. "Once every two days. Bare minimum really, to keep her under control. She's been getting plenty of water though. Why'd you ask?"

"If she's bordering in starvation, she can be really weak or really insane. Had any problems with her before?"

Keelan shook his head. "Only seen her about five times. The boys have seen her more often – _y'know_. But no, she's behaved fine, bit moody – but can you blame her really?"

"She ever tried to use Jedi mind tricks? Or anything like it?" asked Jaq, his mind rapidly processing this information.

"No. Come to think of it, she's never tried anything like it."

Jaq paused in contemplation. This was a little strange. He made a mental note of it, and continued. "You think she snapped? Lost it when she broke out?"

"It would appear that way. She torched one of our little dungeon rooms completely. Took out one man, we think. But she didn't kill one of the mercs, though..."

That sounded more like a Jedi, but something still didn't fit. "You ever talked with her? She ever talked with you? Tried to reason with you?"

"Hell no," breathed out Keelan. "She'll either grunt or give me monosyllabic answers. But I'll tell you one thing," Jaq's eyes perked up as he spoke, "when you're in there with her...her eyes – they'll follow you everywhere. Was kinda creepy really. That first time, she'd been restrained – didn't put up a fight either, mind you – we put her in a room, and I swear it...as beaten down as she seemed, she was watching me like a black adder. Next few times I went to see her, I made sure I only stayed as long as I needed to."

"Really." said Jaq.

Keelan nodded. "Yeah. You just watch it with her. Most targets, they behave predictably more often than not. It just doesn't seem to be that way this time."

Indeed. If this was the case, it looked like he might make it to the cantina later than he'd thought. And he anticipated that this wasn't going to be easy. Jaq scratched his chin thoughtfully. Keelan didn't seem like a man who got easily spooked, so maybe he had good reason to be. Or maybe he was just exhausted, and paranoia was a result of it. He sighed and reminded himself: the sooner we get cracking, the sooner we can get home.

* * *

In the semi-darkness, she made her way towards the neatly lined up cleaning droids. Pistols were great if she was aiming to go out in a blaze of glory, but getting killed like one of those action heroes in holovids wasn't her intention. She pried open one of the panels on a droid and peered in. Hooked up to some tubing were two large canisters of cleaning fluid. Carefully, she unscrewed them from their position and pulled them out to have a better look under the light. Squinting, her eyes quickly scanned the listed ingredients.

_Tripdazole, DZA, Plutonium-blue, Xanitol, water... Warning: Corrosive, only use as directed. Can cause excess mucosal secretion and respiratory problems if misused. Store at room temperature and away from heat. Flammability grade: D_.

Elori sighed. Damn thing was too fire proof to use. But before she chucked the canister away, a word played quietly across her mind, and she snapped her fingers rapidly to recall its origins.

"_Tripdazole, tripdazole_," she mouthed quietly, "where d'you come from you little blighter?" And then with a jolt, her memory fell into place. It was a conversation she had a long time ago with a tech as they waited for a shuttle, during the wars, before everything...

"_You know, in training, they teach you all this shit – and about how you're supposed to handle everything with some TLC or get your hands blown up. One thing they never tell ya is how dangerous some things are in the everyday household items you use. I mean, they're not gonna blow up on sight, mind you. But given the right catalyst, they can prove to be pretty nasty buggers. For example: there's a common ingredient in floor cleaners – trip...tripdazole, I think. It's not flammable or nothing, but if you oxidize a good sized portion of it – give it a little spark to get things going – it slowly releases a gas than can get you spewing your lunch from here to Deralia. It won't kill you, but it'll give you retching pains like you've never known..._"

Elori couldn't help but smile. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, she chastised. If we go down with this damned thing, it'll all be a waste. So. First thing we need is a gas mask. Cleaning droids didn't need masks. But what about janitors? Living, breathing janitors? She glanced around the room and caught sight of a locker. In her eagerness to get to it, she stumbled slightly. It gave a rusty squeak as it opened, and she reached in and pulled out several items. Cleaning suit. Didn't need that. Boots. Nope. Goggles? Could be useful. She slung them around her neck.

And there they were. They were worth more to her now than a damned Sapith lightsaber crystal. Two dirty, dusty, gas masks.

Every thing else was going to be a cinch. All she had to do now was grab all the canisters, open them slightly and place them in the venting duct. With a spark from one of the droids' rechargeable batteries, she could take her leave off matters and let the breeze blow. She hoped those boys out there would be taking deep breaths.

Involuntarily, she let out a little laugh of glee. Before she rolled up her sleeves and got started, she looked up at the ceiling, and to no one in particular she mouthed a silent _thank you_.

* * *

Jaq walked down the room with Keelan, talking as they moved.

"Don't bother switching to another frequency. If she's got the same radio as you guys do, she'll scan each channel. So just stick with radio silence or comm. links if you've got 'em." said Jaq. "How're we doing with the blueprints?"

"Not so good. She went down a venting duct last time we saw her, and they don't know where that leads."

Jaq shook his head, disappointed. "We _need_ those layouts, Keelan."

"I know, I know. I'll tell them again."

"Okay. Only thing we can do now is to flood the venting system with gas. But we need to do this quick, we need to build up the pressure here. Has everyone got their breathers on them? We need to get started."

"I'll check with Drek." Keelan moved to one side and activated his comm. link.

Jaq stood away from him patiently. Things were not going as smoothly as he'd planned. Due to lack of proper communication, everything was working slowly, like a jammed engine. He drummed his fingers lightly against the holster that held his blaster. He paused, sniffing the air. Something, ever-so-slight, wafted into his nose. It smelt acrid, and the more breaths he took, the more nauseous he felt. Jaq glanced at Keelan, who'd apparently noticed it as well.

He walked quickly over to Keelan and yanked his shoulder. "Tell 'em not to start pumping it yet! We need gas masks!"

Keelan, looking a little green, spoke into the comm. link, his hand covering his nose and mouth. "Drek! Shut off the gas!" And then after a few seconds, he looked back up at Jaq with alarm in his eyes. "It's not them, Jaq,"

"_What?_" coughed Jaq.

"It's not them! They haven't even set up the gas yet!" Keelan turned around quickly and bent over. "Oh god, I think I'm going to be sick," With that, a spurt of partially digested food flew from his mouth.

Jaq turned away from the sight with a grimace, afraid that he'd soon do the same.

_What the hell was happening?_

* * *

He ran down the emergency stairwell, a rag covering his mouth like a child dressed up as a bandit. It was the closest thing to a gas mask he had. But unlike the other mercs, he could tolerate a little gas better than they could. It was something he'd been trained to do really, and he had to admit that it did come in handy. Especially during moments like these.

He had Keelan's comm. link with him, and through it, the other fellow, Drek, had informed him that the Jedi had been sighted going into one of the large briefing rooms south of where he was. If the Jedi was truly there, then she was only a few minutes away from the exit that led to the big, beautiful world outside. It was his job to make sure she didn't breathe the fresh air again.

He pulled out his comm. link as he ran, and demanded to be put through the Ges. On hearing his friend's voice, he spoke quickly. "Listen up, buddy, I need you to get down to sub-level twelve. Yeah, yeah, I know you feel like shit! Do it anyway! You have a blaster? Great," he panted, "Listen...use your map. Don't go anywhere near the large room. Just stand guard by the exit. She's going to be moving around there. If you see her, aim for the knees. Then the shoulders. I know she's worth a lot!" shouted Jaq, "That's why you immobilize her first you idiot! I'll be there in a bit. Just don't move, okay?"

He skipped the last four stairs, landing on the floor with a thud, and jammed the comm. link into his pocket.

From there, he made his way into the briefing room.

* * *

The door slide open with a soft hiss. He entered the room cautiously, swallowing back the nausea that kept on building up. He surveyed his surroundings slowly. The center podium was right at the bottom of the room, and it was surrounded by a circular array of seats, each at a different level. The lights in the room were set on dim, casting everything in a soft blue hue. He knew there should be a panel somewhere to adjust the lighting, but perhaps this was best. If she didn't know already, turning up the brightness would only alert her to his presence.

He pulled his blaster, the only trustworthy friend at this moment. If he'd had more time, he could have come armed with some tranquilizers, even a knife or two, but whatever had happened in the last few minutes had caught everyone off guard.

And he didn't like being taken unawares.

He moved carefully to his right, treading softly even on the carpet, as he scanned the room for any trace of movement. That was when he heard it. It was a little faint at first, but the unmistakable raspy sound of air moving through a purifier echoed in his ears like music.

He moved deftly in between rows of empty seats, and saw a darkened shape from where the noise stemmed. Pointing his blaster ahead of him, he edged closer and saw the slumped form's shoulders. Quickly he let out two shots, and watched as the body jolted backwards. The raspy breathing continued, but something wasn't right.

What wasn't right?

Her breathing rate remained normal.

In the next instant, he was yanked backwards by his hair, and felt something sharp knee him in his lower back. With a groan he let his blaster clink against the metal seating and fall away from him. But he spun around, refusing to hit the floor. He instinctively reached for a limb of his attacker and managed to grab a long, thin arm. He wrenched it violently, and to his satisfaction, he heard the yelp of his attacker, followed by the clatter of something else hitting the carpet.

He turned to face the Jedi, knowing that it couldn't be anyone else, and let loose a swinging punch that cut cleanly through the air as she leapt away, and into the next row of seats below. He saw her move awkwardly clutching her arm – with no use of the Force – amidst the seating. She had on a large pair of goggles and a ridiculous gas mask, although it obviously served its purpose. In the eerie blue lighting she looked like a skinny Rodian thug. Who was that chap he shot before, then, wondered Jaq? Someone she knocked out?

_Never mind that_, he reminded himself, _our dear lady's making her way towards the exit near that podium_.

He leapt through the rows with more grace, quickly catching up with her. Throwing caution to the wind, he jumped on her, and she fell forward, hitting her forehead on the top edge of a seat. In the small space, he struggled hard to get up first, and felt the pain of his quarry. In a dark corner of his mind, he felt immense satisfaction in knowing he'd caused her this hurt, and quickly put an arm around her neck, grabbing her in a tight headlock.

Her gasps came out loud through the mask, and with his free hand, he yanked it from her face. _Yeah kid, that's it, breath in that nice air_...

He held on fast, waiting her to fight him with her good hand. But she didn't. In the next instant, he found out why. Something sharp sunk itself deep into his shoulder and he could do nothing but let go. She let out a primal yell, shaking him loose, falling over the pews as she made her way forward.

Something inside of him let itself out, and all he could see in that damned room was her. Yanking out the rusted nail in his shoulder, he leapt forward. Just ten more rows and she would be down. Technically, there was little chance of her winning. He knew that Ges would do as instructed, and he would be waiting for her by the exit. But that wasn't good enough for him. He'd never let anyone get away like this before. She wasn't acting as the others had.

She was fighting for her life, and she obviously didn't give a damn who she took down with her.

Summoning the energy he needed, he scrambled after her, gaining on her yet again. Once she'd hit the floor, he dove, reaching out for her legs. She crashed forward – he heard her teeth clatter together with the impact. She flailed her foot backwards in his direction, catching him near his eye and then spun onto her back to deliver more blows his way.

In the midst of the quick movement, he caught a glimpse of a bloodied face, and a pair of wild eyes. He'd seen them before somewhere. To be honest, they reminded him of his own, once, very long ago. And he had been angry then, so full of anger. So was this bitch. He could fry an egg on her head if he could immobilize her, of that, he was certain.

Time for that then. He narrowed his eyes and drove his elbow hard into her exposed throat. He felt skin touch skin, and waited. She let out a hefty wheeze and turned to one side, bringing her knees up to her chest.

_Man_, he thought, _that had to hurt_.

He yanked her hair back. _There will be no dignity for you, sweetheart_. Then he saw her face and his heart leapt into his mouth.

From a buried memory in the back of his mind emerged a name.

Elori.

How? Here?

He stumbled backwards, gasping for breath.

She remained there, still conscious. She hadn't noticed him yet. Her breaths came out raspier than they had through the damned gas mask. She squirmed for a few seconds before she turned to look at him.

Eyes as wide as his now.

The spark of recognition.

She managed to get herself into a seating position. He stared at the red welt forming around her throat, and watched her move backwards on her hands and legs...scrambling away from him.

"No," he said slowly.

"_You_." she croaked, no voice, just a wheezing sound.

He shook his head and held his hand up. That only caused her to move away faster, and before long, she staggered to her feet. She edged her way around the podium and closer to the exit.

"Elori, wait," he managed to mutter.

She kept her eyes fixed on him, continuing to move.

"I didn't know – I had no idea...you. That it was you. I didn't –" he kept speaking. _Get it together, dumbass!_ He pointed towards the exit and spoke calmly now. "There's a man, waiting by the exit for you. If you walk out there now – he's going to shoot you."

Her eyes spoke volumes that her voice couldn't.

She was up against the wall now, and she slid slowly towards the door.

"_Elori, you can't bloody get out of here without my help!_" he yelled. She stopped moving.

A beat.

"And why," she rasped finally, panting, "Should I believe you?"

"Because, if you're anything like I am, then you know I'm your only ticket out of here. Let your pride be damned."

"You did this," she hissed.

He shook his head. "No. No I didn't. I had no idea. The only reason I came down here is to help someone. If he didn't get you back in your cell, he'd be a bloodied mess by now,"

"Your loyalty and my identity aside," she whispered, "this is still a pretty shitty way to do someone over."

"I was wrong," he nodded quickly. "I know that now. Look. We don't have much time." He looked over his shoulder, up towards the entrance, and then back at her. "And you don't have much of a choice."

She looked away from him, considering something. When she looked back at him, despite her obvious anger, there was something else that spoke out. "If this is a trap, damn you to hell."

* * *

They moved quickly through empty rooms, towards the exit. He'd have offered to help her walk, but he knew that she would have rather crawled on one leg than have him as her crutch. Having him help her get this far was obvious pain enough.

He opened a door, and they entered another corridor, at the end of which, stood Ges. He raised his blaster, but on seeing Jaq, immediately lowered it. As the pair neared him, Ges raised it again and stared at Elori, flabbergasted.

"No questions, Ges, no questions. Open that damn door." Jaq grabbed the blaster out of Ges' limp hand.

Swallowing nervously, Ges whimpered. "Jaq, dear friend, Jaq, what've they drugged you with?"

"You got in here with your voice. Now get us out." spoke Jaq slowly.

"Jedi mind tricks," whispered Ges.

Jaq slapped his friend on his cheek with the back of his hand. "Snap out of it buddy! Do I sound like I've been brainwashed?"

Ges blinked up at him. "They're coming Jaq. Three units. What the hell are you doing?"

"_Speak the damned code!_" yelled Jaq and Elori at him in unison.

Ges turned around slowly in a daze, and spoke into a panel near him. The heavy door creaked open and the trio stumbled into an elevator.

When it opened, Elori stepped out first, breathing heavily, not out of exhaustion but disbelief.

She walked forward slowly and looked around her. The stars twinkled down at them cheerfully, and wisps of purple clouds, lit up by Alderaan's amazing city, streaked the night sky.

It was a beautiful night.


	4. Chapter 4

He led her into a darkened apartment, and she walked in slowly. It was a little hard to simply shrug off all that caution. She stood in front of him, unsure of what to do next.

"Kitchen's straight ahead and to your right." he spoke from behind, turning on the lights. He moved away to another section of the flat. "Help yourself to the food."

She made her way to his kitchen and studied each cupboard. Immediately, she opened each one, looking for something to sink her teeth into. In the third cabinet she opened, she found a small round melon. Without thinking, skin and all, she bit into it.

When he came in, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at her as the pink juice dribbled down her bloodied chin, and onto the floor. She ignored him completely and continued to make her way to the fruit's center.

"Would you...uh...like me to cut that up for you?" he offered.

She shook her head, no. Then later, through a mouthful of fruit, she muttered. "You got anything else?"

"I have some fish. Some pie – it's a week old, but – "

"I'll take it."

"Elori, you know, um...how do I put this, during your period of...uh...capture, they didn't feed you much, did they?"

Finished with the melon, she flung it into the trash. "What gave you that idea?" she asked with sarcasm.

He smiled. "What I'm trying to say, is that your stomach size is a little smaller than normal now. If you're going to stuff yourself silly – and I'm not blaming you – it's all going to come back out soon afterwards."

"Oh shut up and give me that pie."

* * *

Just as he anticipated, after consuming the pie and the badly cooked fish, she made her quickly towards his refresher. Sitting outside of it in the small corridor, he could hear her retching out her dinner. When she opened the door, she steadied herself with one arm against the door frame and regarded him silently. And then she laughed.

To be honest, he hadn't expected her to. He couldn't help but break out into a series of chuckles himself. He rose and offered her two packs of Kolto.

She took them, and looked down at herself. She gingerly fingered her bruised throat.

"Sorry about the neck," he said. "Never really meant for that to –"

"Of course you did, Atton." she said, taking the Kolto and walked towards his living room.

He stood still and mouthed his name to himself. _Atton_. He hadn't heard that...since...well, for a long time.

He followed her out into the living room. She had seated herself not on his sofa, but in a bare corner of the small room. She had begun to open the packs and awkwardly started to administer the healing gel on herself. He'd then noticed that she didn't move her right arm much. Had he...? Oh crap. Of course he did.

"You know, I've had some training as a medic. I can get your arm back in, no problem."

She looked up at him. No smiles this time. "No thanks. I don't think I'm quite ready for another swig of pain."

He jerked his thumb behind him. "Hey, I could give you a small dose of...something I have that will sedate you for a bit while I fix your arm."

"Sedate me?" she repeated. "No way."

"It won't hurt a bit."

"Forgive me for being blunt, but the thought of you with a needle and me at the receiving end doesn't quite sit well. Alarm bells ring. Wailing klaxons. You know."

He leaned back into the sofa and chortled. "Well. It's _your_ arm. And if you can stand the pain, then that's fine by me."

The pack of kolto slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. She picked it back up and stared at him curiously. "You're enjoying this, aren't you."

He shook his head, not smiling. "Not one bit."

She bit her lip. "What exactly is in that damned juice that you would, hypothetically, shoot me up with?"

"Carodazole." he said, without missing a beat.

"Side effects?"

"Slight numbness of the nerves in the spot I administer it to being its primary objective, its side effects include a little dizziness, vasodilation, and," he swallowed, "...possible hallucinations."

"You mean I'm going to get high." she said, unblinking.

He brought his hand up to his mouth, trying to conceal an oncoming grin. "Something like that, yeah."

To his surprise, she extended out her arm in a limp manner, and spoke with a steady voice. "Administer away, doctor."

3


	5. Chapter 5

**Hullo, all. I know it's been a long while since I came back to this story – but I had some pretty good excuses for the brief hiatus. Okay, scratch that, and change it to **_**lame**_** excuses...but nevertheless this follow-up to No World for Heroes has been on my mind despite my not writing it. **

**Thank you for taking the time to read it, and thank you even more for reviewing it. Input is always appreciated. For those who are new to this story (and I suspect there are quite a few), although reading the previous story would add a little more depth and background to this one, it's not necessary. If you have questions, about the plot, the characters or inconsistencies, feel free to drop me a message.**

* * *



**JAVIN**

When something is beautiful, truly beautiful, it reaches into your soul – and through an umbilical cord you never knew existed – it will bring you home. Such was Javin's passion for the world around him. He used to dream of places like this, and even in the surreal realm of dreams, it would take his breath away. Being in a dream – that was his trite yet effective choice of words to describe his situation. Because that was what reality has fleshed out for him here.

He stood in a field, untamed for the most part. He was knee deep in wild grass and flowers, staring out into a lake that reflected the grace of a setting sun. He glanced at the flowers that scattered themselves far around him, and wondered to himself bemusedly. Why was it, he thought, that such colours upon a person would make them look like a badly decked neon sign, but they could compliment each other in such harmony out here?

_It's probably best not to wonder_, he told himself. _Take things as they are_.

His eyes then fixed themselves on the formidable mountain range beyond the lake. He rolled a small rock he held between his fingers and brought it up to the level of his eyes. Slowly, and keeping one eye shut, he extended it forward until the rock lay superimposed on the outline of a mountain peak. Small and large. Yet so alike.

He heard the rustle of feet against grass behind him and turned.

James Yeo-Lan strode slowly towards his friend and Padawan, his hands deep in his pockets. His youthful appearance has diminished somewhat, and it was quite obvious that something had left a cold spot in his soul. Where once his grey eyes had shone and reflected passion, they now reflected a secret; but it was one that cast a yoke around his neck instead of breaking it. However, there was some part of him that clung to the adamant nature of youth. And he shielded that naivety fiercely at times, with the firm belief that that was what led to innocence. And innocence was a splendid tool with which to draw beauty out of ugliness.

He stopped a few feet behind Javin and sniffed the air. "Smells like rain," he commented.

Javin looked to the dark cloud to his right and grinned. "The best kind though. Look," he gestured to a clear sky to the west – towards waning sunlight and dusk, "...the witch clashes with the wizard. This is where the rain meets the sun."

James face broke out into a slow smile at the expression. It was a popular reference here amongst its inhabitants, on the planet of Ithor. The Ithorians, who modestly claimed to be nature's companions and not her master, often loved to attribute stories to almost every natural phenomenon they observed. Many misconstrued such tales as a form of taming nature; handing her humanity and all of its emotions – it seemed a fitting way to identify with the uncontrollable. But James knew better. The Ithorians were no fools, and long ago, they had accepted that dominion over nature, if even possible, would be short lived. In actuality, their stories reminded them of nature's dominion over _them_.

"James, is it true what they say? That the Ithorians rebuilt this place into what it is?"

James scoffed. "Whoever fed you that had some death sticks stuffed up his gob." James shook his head. "But to answer your question, no. Ithor, or whatever it was before the Ithorians came here, is the real deal."

Javin looked satisfied and walked a few steps forward, closer to the lake. He knew that he wouldn't be content with an artificial planet, a manufactured ecosystem just didn't feel right. It was all well and good on war-torn regions, in fact, it was necessary, but to replace nature with something contrived was considered an abomination in his mind.

He called out to James without turning around. "Is it time for a meal already?"

James' pleasant expression wafted away, and his voice took on a somber tone. "Not really. I've just received a message from Yustan."

Javin, ignoring James' shift in emotion, spun around quickly, and his eyes lit up.

_Ah_, recognized James, _so the boy wasn't completely gone_. There were times when James thought that with Elori's disappearance and the silent deaths of the Jedi across the galaxy, Javin had prematurely taken on the burden of finding answers to each situation. And it was obvious that this yoke would age him – physically and emotionally. He'd seen its work begin already; Javin was no longer as impulsive or as trusting as he once was. Behind friendly amber eyes, worked the mind of someone who had come to see the darker side of human nature, and was aware of its effect on sentient beings across the galaxy. It united him with cynicism and those who carried it.

Sad thing was, those were some handy traits to have.

Javin moved quickly to James' side. "What're you waiting for? Let's hear it!"

James sighed. "Alright. Let's go indoors first."

* * *

The small kitchen was lit up with cheerful gas lamps that hung across the ceiling and by the small fire that served as a primitive stove. Javin had crowded each windowsill with an array of various ferns, and had lovingly tended to them on a daily basis. In the center of the room sat a sturdy little wooden table, with wooden benches flanking each side of it.

Javin made his way inside and sat himself down on the table top, with his feet resting on the bench, facing the warm fire. He watched, with a limited stock of patience, as James hung a kettle above the fire, and made his way towards the younger man.

"Yustan has had to skip town. And that's putting it mildly," began James. Javin arched his eyebrows in curiousity as James continued. "She sent us a brief message – I don't believe she had much time. The block of apartments she was housed in burnt down two days ago. But she believes the fire was the will of the Force, a godsend, if you think about it, because it alerted her to their presence. And due to that, she was able to escape with her skin on her bones."

"Do you suppose they're tracking her, even still?" asked Javin.

James frowned. "I replied to her message, and told her to be cautious, but she hasn't replied as yet. What makes the situation more grave is that these Sith are so difficult to find, unless they choose to reveal themselves. Which, in the case with most Jedi, involves the moment precisely before they're killed."

"We have to go to her, then."

James shook his head and scowled. "And what good do you think it will do, to have not one – but three Jedi – prancing about together? We couldn't announce our presence better than if we had a beacon strapped to all of our foreheads. Besides, she didn't give us her location."

Javin chuckled despite the situation and James' annoyance. James' frustration primarily stemmed from their lack of ability to thwart these new foes, which was a reason for why they had migrated to Ithor in the first place. And here they had remained, for the past year, safe and hidden. Neither of the pair enjoyed the thought of fleeing from their enemies and cowering in secret places. Nonetheless, it gave them an opportunity to enjoy a brief hiatus from their duties – and to do so in a region as beautiful as this was an added blessing.

But it appeared as if this newfound calm would soon be behind them.

Javin turned slightly as he heard the soft pitter-pat of rain drops hitting the windows, before directing his attention back to James. "So what do you suggest we do?"

"I believe it would be best if she came here, to stay with us awhile like we had suggested. But the fact that she hasn't responded to my message is alarming."

"Yustan will never stay in one place for too long. Even if you could get her down here, she'd leave within the span of a week." disagreed Javin. "And I don't think it's time to worry yet. You sent her the message three weeks ago; she probably hasn't had the opportunity to contact you."

"Three weeks too long," said James, his brow furrowing. "Doesn't the fact that she hasn't found time to catch her breath make you anxious?"

"I don't believe in unnecessary worry. Your very words too, don't you remember? 'It is not work that destroys the man, but worry. It is not movement that wears the machinery, but friction.' You'd do well to practice what you preach from time to time," said Javin good-humouredly.

James couldn't help but smile. He turned around as the kettle began to hiss out steam, and started to pour cups of steaming water into a flask. As he was waiting for the tea to brew, he grew serious again. "But I suppose it's time we came out of hiding, don't you think?"

Javin searched James' face intently. There was something misplaced in his voice – the worry and the fear were all too obvious – but therein lay something else. He remained silent, but expectant.

James straightened and rubbed his hands together. "Well. In any case. We should take the first step. Wait here," he ordered, as he hurried off to another corner of the small house. Within the span of a few minutes, James brought in a brown sack, ragged and old in appearance. He undid the rope that tied the sack together and pushed it towards Javin. He nodded towards the bag, _open it_.

Javin looked up at James briefly, and hesitantly reached into the sack, pulling out a rock that shone against the warm glow of the firelight. Blue streams of light played across the smooth contours of his face, and still staring at its beauty, he spoke. "I take it you didn't dig this one up by the lake bed,"

"There's more in that bag,"

This time, Javin pulled out a round piece of what appeared to be glass; convex on each side. He peered through it, capturing a distorted image of James. Putting the trinket aside, he drew out yet another rock – this time white, and almost opaque – and some sort of energy cell. The reason he knew of its identity, was that he had seen something similar in upgradable blasters that his uncle kept for security purposes. An instant later, he realized what this was all for.

Ever since Javin was initiated into the Jedi Order on Coruscant, had begun his training on Dantooine and became James' Padawan, he was not allowed to build his own lightsaber. The fact that he was older than most was a main factor, but there was also another element involved. 

After a year spent on Dantooine, and sparring with some of the better students there, he had felt that he'd earned the right to start construction on one. But James disagreed. Perhaps he was simply being overly cautious, or perhaps he had sensed the danger that would soon befall all the Jedi. Either way, it had been four years – short to some, but lengthy to him – before this moment was to arrive.

"There's also an emitter in there," gestured James quietly.

Javin held his breath. "I always though they stopped making these emitters..." he said in partial disbelief.

James rolled his eyes. "This is a lightsaber, Javin, not a toy."

"Yeah...but, all this, the opila and sapith crystals, the datium cell, the ossus dueling lens, this lightsaber is going to be the meanest –"

" – blade to hack someone's arm off...?" finished James, with his eyebrows raised. "Your ability to identify each of these items notwithstanding, keep in mind that that **is** a weapon. Its beauty shouldn't mask its true purpose. Under the wrong judgment, you could end a life, like you would snuff out a flame," James snapped his fingers for effect. "Just like that. Years to build a person into what he is, only to have him cut down in the span of a second."

Javin looked somberly down at the pieces that would soon come together as one. Then, with a gleam of mischief in his eyes, he looked back up at James. "Don't tell me that you muted your own enthusiasm when you began to build yours?"

"I must confess that I may have been a tad excited at the prospect," spoke James, stifling a grin, and then giving into the moment, he smiled, "...and my excitement may have led to a misalignment of the lens and emitter, which then singed the skin off my fingertips when I tried to ignite it,"

Javin laughed, fingering the opila crystal in his hands. "I'll try to keep my nerve about me. _Lest I tread down the path of my mentor_," he winked.

Suddenly, James' demeanor changed. "There is also something else I wish to tell you." He swallowed, nervously. "I don't know how to begin, so I don't think you'll hear the words from my mouth – you'd do better to read them."

Javin's smile vanished. "What is it?" A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that this had something to do with his sister, with Elori.

He was right.

"Before your sister left, you must've realized that we were not exactly...in agreement with each other."

"She never told me what was wrong, but I felt that when she decided the time was right, she would. Of course then she took it upon herself to leave." spoke Javin, with a certain degree of bitterness in his voice.

"For my selfish purposes, I must tell you that she has forgiven me, in her own way. But there only lies one more thing. And we need to get past it – you and I – before we leave this place."

It was certain then, thought Javin. They would be leaving Ithor soon. He cast his eyes down at his sandaled feet, hesitant. What exactly had transpired between Elori and James? According to both their accounts, they had only known each other for a day and a half before leaving the Jedi Temple that day. After that, being hospitalized, he could not remember much of anything else. Did it happen around that time, then? As if to answer his question, James reached into his white tunic and pulled out a datapad. He gently placed it on the wooden table.

"As far as I can tell, Elori never kept a diary. But for some reason, she left this in Atris' chambers before her departure. She must have known that Atris would find it and give it to me. Not to Yustan or to you, but to me. Perhaps it was her way of permitting me to tell you what happened." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "In any case, it's yours now – to do with what you will."

Javin rose from the table, and gazed at his teacher intently. For the first time, recognized James, there was no trace of friendliness in the way in which Javin regarded him. There was doubt, which would soon begin to stir the seeds of anger, he knew. James looked away. The younger man grasped the datapad in his hand and walked out.

* * *

Javin sat on the doorstep of the small home, feeling the droplets of rain stream down the side of his face, down his chin, and onto his shirt. Twilight was gone and night had quietly settled onto this side of the planet. The rain however, had only just begun to cease. Distracted by his thoughts, he wiped the water from the datapad's screen. Sighing morosely to himself, he looked absently in front of him. There was no putting it off anymore. He had to read it. He had to read it and take in what it meant.

He activated the screen, which glowed to life. In the main menu, he saw three different entries. Heart beating a little faster than normal, he started to read the first one.

**45-51-7027-NAR SHADAA**

**2600 HRS PST**

_I sometimes wonder...for those with burdens...how long it takes for them to escape. Perhaps strong will and mind would serve to fight negativity – but for how long?_

_These are thoughts, these are __**the**__ thoughts that brought about the contempt the Jedi had for me, and yet these are the thoughts that persist. The endless questioning of their motives, now replaced by the unending questioning of __**my**__ motives. Who are you really doing this for, Elori? Javin? Yourself? Or are you just enduring because facing whatever you have to face in its stead is a harder path?_

_If I had any say in the cards I was dealt I would choose a simpler life. There is nothing wrong with a simple life. Nothing at all._

Javin shut his eyes tight, letting the words play across his mind. Was that what she had wanted all along? Rest? Peace? No, realized Javin. It was what every being in the universe wanted. Whether they were aware of it or not. Underneath hatred and anger, lay a need for rest. And those who sought adventure and danger, at the end of that road, surely they desired serenity.

He went through the first entry once more, and then scrolled down to the second.

**21-73-7027 EST ON CORUSCANT**

**0800 HRS PST**

_Javin is asleep. He sleeps like a child. I've lost Yustan and Atton. Yustan despises Atton, yet he will be her only rescuer. Isn't life ironic? Years ago, I would say that this was the Force in motion. But I don't care who's pulling the strings anymore. It's just ironic. Should I find my lack of hope disturbing? But I want them to be alive. No more need to die on my account. But if they have to die to preserve his life, then I will accept that. Truly I will._

_I would like to play some dejarik instead of mindlessly droning on to a datapad. Now I'm beginning to remember why I stopped keeping a journal in the first place._

The second entry ended there.

Pain drew across Javin's face as he read the words. So she would have sacrificed her friends for him? He frowned. It wasn't your choice to make, sister. Just as leaving us behind wasn't as well. Responsibility is all well and good, but to use it when selfishness is your priority...? But who was he to talk, really? If he could endure the paths of another, only then would he hold the right to question their actions. Of that much he was certain. Sighing, and holding his breath soon after, he proceeded onto the third and final entry.

**21-77-7027 TELOS**

**2130 HRS PST**

_We're not on Telos yet. Not technically. We might as well be there, because my mind is on that planet, only my body is here. I took a brief look at the last two entries on here – it seems like a lifetime ago. Who needs time to measure what is past when we have memories? But I don't want to take stock of all this. Not now._

_I don't want to go to Telos. I would like to go to Dagobah before I search for this Senator Sonum. I wonder if she is also a clone. Or perhaps she was a senate member made privy to this information. It's obvious there's a connection to this Senator and Pietro's son. I managed to dig up something relevant. How ironic that it was James who handed me this information._

_Senator Sonum was elected to participate in the Republic's senate after her handling of the situation between Naboo and Toydaria ten years ago. I need to do some reading up on that incident, but truthfully, it doesn't interest me. All that does is that the woman resides on Naboo. As soon as I'm done with Telos, I can take leave of this popsicle of a planet we're traveling to and head to Naboo. I suppose I'll have to tell Javin at that point. And he'll have to make his own choices then._

_I secretly hope that one of those choices will result in him being angry at James. (This is why I will never become a Jedi again!)_

**2730 HRS PST**

_James told Yustan that it will be about two more hours before we approach the polar region. Lovely. It's strange having James with us and not Atton. Atton was a murderer and a cheat. James is a Jedi. I would rather have the former around._

_I wonder if something happened between the pair. Some kind of romantic entanglement? It's a pity he isn't with us now. That, at least – if things hadn't turned out the way they did – would provide me with some form of entertainment. Wherever you are, Atton, we're sorry. Both Yustan and I. Me, for bringing you into this predicament, and Yustan, for causing you such grief. Perhaps she will never speak those words to me, but I see her sorrow in her eyes. She is truly sorry for what has happened. And we both wish you journey's mercies for wherever you're headed, and safety._

_How my thoughts wonder even on this datapad!_

_The point is, Elori, dearest, you have to write this down lest we forget. Look for Senator Sonum on Naboo. She is our link. Find Pietro's son. He is either a clone or the progeny of one. Which makes me wonder, is the progeny of two clones, a clone? No, of course not. Javin and I are human in every sense of the word. As were our parents. Only humanity would give them a desire to taste freedom._

_I curse the Jedi who tracked them down, and not the bounty hunters._

_I have grown tired of revenge. But I can't help but suspect that there remains a flicker of it inside myself. Maybe it's not of me, but of our mother and our father then. Or maybe it's not revenge but justice that we want. The two are linked, but are not the same._

_In any case, that is all I can write for now. My eyes are growing sleepy and according to my chronometer, I only have one hour before we touch down. I don't particularly want to dream._

Javin immediately scrolled upwards, re-reading every sentence and word until his eyes grew tired. Finally, he leaned back against the door. The rain had stopped falling.

Soon, the sound of chirping crickets began to fill the air around him. He sat there, oblivious to the falling asleep of one of his feet, and tried to breathe in all these ideas. But that was just it. They weren't ideas. They were facts, pieces of lives scattered about. His life. Elori's life. And others too, it appeared. Where did James fall in the midst of all of this? Why was he carrying so much guilt?

Rising up from the steps, he walked into the house.

* * *

The following morning, Javin rose earlier than James to practice his meditation. He strode over to his usual spot by the lake and gently eased his mind and body into unity. The previous evening's events had filled his mind with a vast array of pieces – and very of few of them fit together – allowing more room for distraction and worry. Having most of his friends, not to mention his sister, scattered and lost to him, didn't make the situation any better.

First it was Atton – he had left of his own accord. From what he could gather from Elori's datapad; Yustan's own emotional dealings may have been responsible for that move. Then it was Yustan herself. She had maintained contact – however irregular – with them for a good span of time. But this fresh news and uncharacteristic radio silence disturbed James, and was starting to perturb Javin as well. However, it was his sister's unpredictable decision that had upset him the most. He had needed her so very much, he had expected her to train him, not James. Having her leave without a proper goodbye, and not even knowing of the day and the manner in which she would return set his heart and mind at unease.

All this talk that had obviously preoccupied her mind – about a Senator from Naboo, clones...these new Sith...it now preoccupied his mind too. Was a lie told to her? Was this lie bait? For her, and eventually the rest of them? Javin didn't know which end was up and which end was down. Slowly, gradually, his anxiety pulled him out of his meditative state and he could feel his blood pulsing away worriedly along his neck.

He hung his head, eyes closed.

"I stopped her from getting what she wanted, you know." came a voice from amongst the long grass.

Javin opened his eyes slowly, without response, waiting for James to continue.

"She could have found out what she wanted to – about you, her...your parents." He sighed, reluctant to continue. "But another Jedi would have had to pay the price for that information, and...and I was not going to allow for that to happen."

"You?" asked Javin.

James shook his head, no. "Not me. Someone else. Someone I cared for."

Javin wrestled with his emotions – familial against morals. "Then...I suppose there was no mistake. She had no right to speak for the life of another."

"But I had no right to take away what I did that day, either. Looking back on that moment, now, I should not have done what I did. I have a feeling I will regret that decision till the end of my days. The part that burns me, Javin, is that she held no anger towards me. Sure, she could not go beyond mere civility after that, but there was also no hate. Do you know what she said to me afterwards?" His eyes looked down sadly at the face of his Padawan. "She said she blamed the Jedi Order for my actions. Not me."

Javin turned his head to a side, studying the movement of the fish just below the surface of the water.

James continued. "Believe me, there are times when I'm training you...when I believe that I am doing her a disservice, perhaps even insulting her...helping you become a Jedi."

"Becoming a Jedi – it's something I knew I wanted to do, ever since that day at the Temple. I felt a strong need to walk this path. It was **my** choice." said Javin. "I wanted to choose an honorable life, a life in which I gave back instead of taking away. The Jedi Order, or what's left of it," at this, he made eye contact with James, "would allow me to do this. Yes, I know what the Council did to her, and it was surely a heavy betrayal. But they were misguided – it was obvious that they disregarded the teachings! They should have healed her, instead of stripping her of everything.

I know though, from their mistakes, they'll learn. The next time a Jedi loses what the Jedi Order gave him, they'll pause to consider the roots of these emotions. They will fix it."

James felt a surge of sadness spring up in his heart. The boy was naïve. It was either that, or he was unduly optimistic. What was now left of the Jedi Order was dissipating quickly, and what was there before had succumbed to a life of complacency. It was a life that seemed all too eager to pass judgment, to deal out accusations and punishments. And now, after what Elori had experienced at the Temple, there seemed to be more to blacken the steady downfall of what once to be a greatly revered institution. The life and teachings of the Jedi were almost considered a philosophy by many. Having its ideals tarnished could make belief a very dangerous weapon indeed.

Jamed placed a hand on Javin's shoulder and smiled sadly. "You don't yet understand, Padawan. I don't disapprove of your sister's decisions...to go to war, and to disregard the Council's commands. I don't disapprove of her rejecting the Order. In truth, I admire her...for her defiance to its ways."

And then, speaking silently to himself, _It was something I could never do_.

* * *

They spoke long into the night, Javin telling James of his thoughts, James piecing together all this intelligence, trying to make coherent sense of something very obscure. Javin wished strongly that Elori had confided in him before she left, instead of abandoning a stale trail of breadcrumbs for them both to pick up after. But then, James had suggested, Javin would have followed that trail to whatever end and all their efforts would have been in jeopardy. She had obviously put as much thought to her choices in as little a time as what was awarded to her. There were no right or wrong decisions here, just a list of options with which she had to logically prioritize.

It looked as if they would have to work with the same meager tools she did. Their initial feelings turned towards Yustan. If things had gone according to plan, the pair would have met up withYustan here on Ithor in a little more than a week. But without the hint of contact from their friend, they were befuddled as to where to begin searching for her. And even if they knew, the system Yustan was on, the city she was in...would obviously be too hot for them to embroil themselves in. Logically then, their next piece of evidence lay in Elori's datapad – now with Javin for safekeeping.

"What do you know of Naboo, anyway?" asked Javin.

"A beautiful place. I've been there only once in my lifetime, and it was a while ago...but it certainly made an impact. A very serene place; its beauty is comparable perhaps only to Alderaan..." James drifted off momentarily into what seemed to be a vivid but sad memory before bringing his thoughts back to the present. "It's a Republic system, so it's possible that we won't have to worry too much about mercenaries on our tail. Then we can devote time to searching for this senator."

Javin sighed. "...We don't even know if she is in office."

"Well, at least we know her name. Which is a good deal to work with, considering."

"How approachable are the politicians in Naboo?"

"Fairly approachable. Remember, Naboo maintains a steadfast balance between democratic and socialistic ways. If its government suffers, so do its people. And vice versa. They've endured enough of the hardships of capitalist economies. They wouldn't even think of tolerating the presence of companies like Czerka. Naboo's politicians think primarily of its people before profit. I guess they've realized you can't have one without the other. If we're cordial, if we go through the civilities of asking the government for permission to investigate – I don't foresee any problems."

Javin frowned. "But that would also make our presence...not to mention our goals, official. And you know what that means."

"Naboo's politicians are certainly not ones to blab," countered James.

"But their staff could. I'm not sure if we could handle that kind of attention. It would be almost as bad as if we've strapped a beacon to our foreheads," spoke Javin, smiling slightly in a reference to James' comment the previous day.

James conceded a grin. "True. But if we're to find your sister or Yustan even, we need to move quickly. Having dropped off the radar of these new Sith, it's very possible that they are no longer looking for us. Which gives us the advantage."

"Speed over secrecy then?"

"For the moment, yes."

"Then that's what we'll do." concluded Javin, as he rose from his seat and made his way towards his bedroom. "When should we leave?"

"We can head over to the capital tomorrow. I know an Ithorian there who owes me a favor. If it's safe passage to Naboo that we need, then he'll be more than willing to oblige."

Javin nodded.

"Oh, and Javin?" said James pausing for a second before continuing, "You better get started on your lightsaber when you get a chance. It's not like we'll be brandishing it about on arrival, but I have a feeling that it might prove useful along the road."

James leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**ONE WEEK LATER**

**Tafanda Bay **

**Ithor**

James Yeo-Lan sat patiently on a red velvet sofa, surrounded by extravagant décor. Lamps made from natural crystal hung from the ceiling, and from their prisms emanated light – split into nature's seven colors – the brightest being a luminous yellow. It subtly lit up the focus points of the room, while casting lesser areas in a soft glow. The walls were a shade of wheat, and no sensible person could argue that bare spaces weren't being utilized. A myriad of pictures adorned the empty portions of the walls – some of them depicting landscapes from different systems, some were portraits of various families and some...well, some were simply beyond the scope of James' abilities to appreciate art. Beautiful plants were almost strategically placed in the six corners of the room, all in healthy condition and in perfect bloom. In the center of this opulent chamber was a desk, behind which sat an Ithorian receptionist – or at least that was what James could gather. A communications console kept chirping in front of the Ithorian, and in the past hour, he had answered several calls with his deep, guttural voice before going back to his other duties.

James let out a breath, more in patience than in frustration as he bided his time. This was the office of an old friend, or acquaintance, rather...considering that James had come in contact with this person by pure accident. Several years ago, the Exchange had been smuggling in some deadly spice into a war-torn system, and a few Jedi – him being one of them – were instructed to put a halt to these black market dealings, because they impeded recuperative efforts in the region. Of all the beings involved in this smuggling operation was an Ithorian, Cheer Narda, who maintained the backward and forward flow of accounts, the amount of spice being bought or traded. In short, despite the lack of direct contact this Ithorian had with people behind this operation, he had a wealth of information – enough to implicate several individuals and companies party to this scheme. Bookkeeper though he was, an extremely valued one he had become.

On being discovered by the Jedi, the Ithorian did not plead ignorance, instead he asked for mercy – he was clearly aware that a Republic trial would speedily result in his incarceration and that the real players of the game would get out and disappear without even getting their hands dirty. In other words, the Jedi together with the Republic would _not_ opt for a trial – there were bigger fish to fry and the information the Ithorian possessed could be used to put them behind bars instead. Due to that, however, his life would be in grave danger – his death would obviously serve to profit the people he worked for.

But the Jedi and the Republic made the usual assurances; that his safety was their primary concern, that with his testimony he would alleviate the burden caused by guilt which had, in turn, been caused by his profession. James knew, though, that a successful trial did not necessarily mean that everyone involved would be locked up, there was always the chance that some of them would not be convicted and instead, would be allowed to return to their lives. And certainly then, they would not be quick to forget who it was who brought this trouble on them. It would be Narda they would target, and perhaps even his family would be in danger. The Jedi were spread too thin to offer constant protective services to one civilian Ithorian, and everyone knew that the Republic needed soldiers to replace their steadily decreasing numbers following the Mandalorian Wars. There simply weren't enough men and women to spare for a seemingly insignificant cause. Assurances were not enough.

Perhaps then, it was from a feeling of pity or dread, or maybe even both that James had decided that the Ithorian should not be placed in the middle of the fray. In truth, it was not his decision to make, but he had powerful friends back then – Jedi Master Atris being one of them – on his side. Helping make his case pertaining to the safety of Narda, Atris managed to convince key players in the Republic Senate that exposing the Ithorian was not the route down which they should proceed. Instead, both she and James suggested that they stage Cheer Narda's death, coming up with an elaborate scheme to orchestrate such an event. Only then would they allow for the finding of evidence that would incriminate persons involved in the smuggling operation. Despite the somewhat lengthy and tiresome process, they were successful. The criminals were put away and Cheer Narda, now believed to be deceased, was free to start his life anew along with his family.

It wasn't an overstatement to say that James might just have saved Narda's life. And Narda did not forget that.

Several months later, James had received an anonymous message – sent from Toydaria (or so it seemed). It was a note of gratitude, and it didn't take James longer than a few moments to recognize that it was Cheer Narda who had sent this letter of thanks. In it, he had given James a brief account of his new life. He was now a relatively successful business accountant for some important people, all perfectly legal, he had said, and would be returning to Ithor soon with his mate and offspring, to start giving back something to his own people. Because of the new and important connections Narda had made, he was in a position of knowledge and influence, something he believed James could benefit from due to his benevolent actions towards Narda and his own. At the time, although grateful, James thought nothing of it – he did not have many dealings with the Ithorians or their restorative services. He did, however, for whatever reason, keep this offer in mind. After all, who knew when it could come in useful?

Still seated on the couch, James allowed himself a little chuckle. Certainly he did not foresee himself being _stationed_ – if that was the right word for it – on Ithor, with a Padawan in-training and the Jedi Order in quiet turmoil. But then again, life did have a way of bringing about sudden ironies; that was the nature of her unpredictability.

The Ithorian receptionist silently rose to his feet and lumbered towards James. "_The honourable Terxe will see you now, Master Yeo-Lan, and he offers his apologies for making you wait this long_." he said, in his native Ithorian.

James smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, following quietly behind the Ithorian.

* * *

"_James Yeo-Lan_," spoke the voice in Ithorese, with what James believed to be fondness, "_I honestly did not think you would have the time to venture here! What twists of fate have brought you down this road?_"

James smiled warmly as he walked towards his friend. The Ithorian did the same and opened out his arms, trying to mimic an embrace – something he had seen various species doing, especially humans. The Ithorian fumbled forward, giving James an awkward hug, but it was obvious that James appreciated the gesture nonetheless; the Ithorians were not known for displaying their emotions so openly.

"Let's just say that fate hasn't been particularly kind in bringing me to Ithor, Narda." said James in Basic.

The Ithorian blinked his eyes rapidly, looking somewhat alarmed. "_Please, my friend, I do not go by that name anymore...for reasons I'm sure you remember. I am now Yentl Terxe_."

James chastised himself silently before apologizing. "Of course, of course. I am sorry."

Terxe nodded in acceptance and waved his hand towards a comfortable seat in front of his desk. James sat down there and continued to exchange pleasantries. "So...how did you come by all of this, Terxe? Last I recall, you were out of a job. Circumstances hadn't exactly been kind..."

The Ithorian nodded sadly, but then his eyes lit up. "_True. But my skills weren't lost to me. If you think back, I had quite the knack for handling money. An efficient accountant becomes a very valuable resource for a successful enterprise. And once I was handed this life, this clean slate, I could maximize my talents!_"

James laughed. "And it looks as if you did! I am impressed, though, at the speed of your progress."

"_Perfectly legal, perfectly legal, I tell you. I had managed to hone my abilities while I was with the Exchange, and they have served me well here. This firm appreciates my efficiency and what's more, it serves a worthy cause_."

James' eyebrows rose in curiousity.

"_We are, as you know, one of the best biotechnology firms in the Ottega Sector – you'd find it hard-pressed to find another company that manufactures environmental-friendly energy equipment as proficiently as we do. We have been able to franchise...oh, I do hate that word, I mean...__**expand **__out of this Sector too – our next goal is to extend our services out into Telos. After what the Mandalorians did to that planet, recovery is of the utmost importance. We believe we can help speed up the effort greatly._" Terxe then laughed and shook his head. "_But I see that our company's initiatives for the future tire you. No, no, please don't apologize – I do sometimes get carried away by the endless possibilities. My mate often reminds me of it._"

"How is your family, by the way?" asked James, taking the opportunity to speak of other matters.

"_Doing well...mostly due to your involvement so many years ago. Jayla, my eldest, is thinking about going into the same profession I'm in! My son aims to go into the horticultural business...very honourable professions, these are_."

James nodded in agreement. "Where are they now?"

"_Well, my mate and my eldest reside here with me, in Tafanda Bay. My son has travelled to the Falls of Dessiar for his studies. Some very exotic plants grow there, some of which he thinks should be preserved should any ill befall them_."

James leaned back comfortably in his seat. "I have to say, Terxe, it looks as if you have done very well for yourself. I certainly am impressed."

"_But you have not come down here for idle banter, have you?_" asked Terxe, looking James directly in the eyes. "_Is there anything with which I can offer aid?_"

"Actually, Terxe...yes, there is. It is, however, an extremely long story and I'm afraid I lack the time to sit here and tell you about it."

"_What a shame. I adore stories. But if the situation warrants urgency, then we should not tarry. Tell me what it is you want, and I will see what I can do_."

Grateful for Terxe's understanding nature, James spoke. "There's no tip-toeing around the issue here. My Padawan and myself need to leave Ithor and head to Naboo as soon as we can."

"_Surely there are local freighters that traffic through this route daily... If it's comfort you seek, I have a small ship at my disposal and you're welcome to – _"

" – We...uh, we would like for this journey to be as discreet as possible, Terxe."

"_This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with bounty placed on Jedi, would it? Are some mercenaries on your tail? If so, I will see that the matter is dealt with as soon as possible. We Ithorians will not tolerate outsiders bringing their filthy business into our lives. __**Especially**__ mercenary scum_."

"You _know?"_ said James, incredulously.

Terxe chortled. "_Of course I know, my friend. The Jedi have now become the fresh prize of many bounty hunters. Your heads have become more valuable than Oronatian gold_." Terxe rubbed his hammer-like head in sadness. "_But there still remain some Republic-governed systems that won't withstand this vigilante nonsense. We are one of them. After all, what has this galaxy come to when we have resorted to hunting down the Jedi, our __**guardians**__, for the love of credits?_"

James sighed. "So you understand then, how we can't walk about in the open as we once did,"

"_Certainly I do. If it's discretion you want, then it's discretion you'll get. I'll personally see to it that you and your Padawan are safely transported to Naboo. We might even be able to give you both some new identities, this will help stave off any suspicion; even if for a little while_."

James gave the Ithorian a wan smile. "Hey, any time you can buy us is well worth the effort. And I will be very thankful."

"_There is no need for thanks, my friend. Now let us not waste any more time and see what we can do_." said Terxe solemnly.

* * *

"I suppose if discretion is what you were after...you certainly seemed to have achieved your goal," spoke a miserable Javin, as he squirmed within the layers of cloth that adorned him.

James shot him a look of disapproval. "In some instances, Padawan, you will learn that the ends justify the means."

"But it's absolutely stifling underneath all this! We'll die of heatstroke before we even board!" he protested. "I can't believe you turned down Terxe's offer to fly us in on his private shuttle."

"That would require an entourage, and an entourage attracts too much attention. Be patient, the shuttle's almost here and we'll board the freighter within the hour."

Javin wriggled uncomfortably in his seat. He felt several beads of sweat trickle down his spine before they were absorbed by the thick cloth. "So was this your idea or Terxe's?" said Javin, still scowling.

"Mine. Merchants of Islendil are plentiful these days. No one would give us a second look in this garb." said James quietly.

Islendillian merchants regularly frequented developing or war-recovering worlds such as Ithor. They had multiplied following the Jedi Civil War several years ago, and were often spotted underneath layers of heavy clothing during market days in small towns. Initially some had mistaken the merchants for the Sand People of Tatooine, thinking that the savage tribe had suddenly come to accept civilized living, but that misconception was soon swept away. The islendillians were not ashamed of their world, and were quick and eager to speak to their customers of their planet, which had been covered by several layers of ice some thousands of years ago. The planet was rarely, if ever, exposed to the suns belonging to their system, and its people had evolved to be mostly intolerant of sunlight. Thus, the thick tunics served a dual purpose on their world and during their travels; they provide much needed warmth on Islendil and shielded their sensitive skins from the suns of other systems. Many associated an icy realm with barrenness, but the Islendillians were also quick to dispel that notion. They were a resourceful people, and were able to construct structures that simultaneously encased warmth and utilized the rich nutrients found in Islendillian ice to feed their crops. As a result, the harvested fruits and vegetables from the planet were awash in flavour and were somehow able to maintain this freshness even when stored for several weeks.

However, Islendil was not purely a farmer's paradise. Compounds found in the ice were discovered to be some of the most essential for construction of hyperdrive engines. Scientists were initially perplexed by this link between food and travel, but overcame their surprise soon enough and began to highlight this revelation to others. It wasn't long before Prime Ministers, Governors, Kings and Queens caught on to this new phenomenon, and were eager to import as much Islendillian ice to their systems. Without much hesitation, they offered the Islendillians an abundance of credits for their services. But the Islendillians were not fools, and immediately foresaw the consequences that would follow should they agree to this trade. They were not prepared to deplete their home (and their own survival) of these resources for mere credits. But at the same time, they did not want to permanently seal this window of opportunity. Following several re-written agreements between Islendil and other systems of trade, Islendil agreed to ship very specific amounts of their ice to certain systems annually. These amounts were inadequate to supply even half a world with hyperdrive engines, but scientists had soon developed techniques to increase the yield of the chemicals within the ice provided that they had something to start from. They were now highly regarded by several systems aware of their imports, and were treated with respect on their travels.

Hence, James' idea to disguise themselves as these esteemed merchants. But he had to admit, although the idea was practically sound in certain aspects, he had not anticipated that the physical effects of such garb could be so stifling. Perhaps then, the boy was right, and this wasn't the best of ideas.

He did not have much time to think up an apology to his Padawan, however, because in the next instant the mechanized voice over the intercom informed travelers that their freighter was now boarding and it was time for them to be on the move once again.

* * *

The trip to Naboo was not as long as both of them had foreseen. Perhaps the hours sped by as they slept; giving their tired minds much-needed rest. Or perhaps the sights and sounds on board the freighter provided entertainment and served as a distraction, something James recognized that he required just as much as Javin did. In any case, the pair were grateful for this shortened trip and were relieved to reach Naboo without unnecessary attention from travelling citizens, and more importantly, bounty hunters.

On landing on the beautiful planet, they left port again without any incident, and Javin was instantly treated to a stunning view of the planet's capital, Theed. The roads were lined with spring-green trees, and the streets were mostly paved with terracotta stones and in some places, ornate tiles that appeared to carry ancient intricate artwork. As they walked through the roads, James gave Javin a brief description of Theed's artistic history and with it, the political views that had molded the planet into what is was now.

He explained that Naboo was once not a democracy; it had only amounted to its current standing because its people had been awakened from a forced stupor. It was a recognition that ordinary citizens and its rulers were no longer working in tandem for a profitable future, but that the lifeblood of the shopkeeper or the craftsman was used to sustain Theed's pseudo-legislators well and beyond the bare necessities. Initially, the citizens were far too occupied by the fundamental need to survive, and thereby, were too demoralized to attempt to alter their situation.

It was then that quietly and humbly, younger politicians began to emerge out of the woodwork with noble purposes in their hearts. Perhaps it was their youth that enabled them to dream in such a fashion; innocence and passion had not yet been corrupted by the limits and cynicism of society. New bills that proposed regulation of governmental procedures and limited its authority over certain issues were pushed forth relentlessly. Initially, this fresh breeze left its critics bemused but skeptical; but eventually, the proposals became tiresome and finally, a suspension was ruled in favour of those against the bills.

But finally, it seemed, governmental councils had overstepped their boundaries.. The silencing of politicians that championed the voices and concerns of the people no longer went by unnoticed as it had for several years. These mounted frustrations raced furiously towards their pinnacle, and inevitably lead to a planet-wide revolution. Individuals who were known to have a distaste for undeservedly affluent politicians were labeled as traitors to their government, and these seditionists were treated brutally (by those still loyal to Naboo's rulers); they were stripped of their careers and livelihoods while some were judged to be too much of a threat to society, and imprisoned for several years.

But revolution is often stirred and fueled by passion, whose effects met resistance with equal resistance. It seemed that for every mutineer that was taken away, several more took his place and together their voices reached a crescendo never heard before in the history of Naboo. And just when the people were prepared to spill blood to take what was theirs by right, its rulers were shaken enough to see sense and hurriedly informed the citizens that it was certainly time for some change. Agreements were made between the two parties, this time with no intermediary to delay proceedings, and a concurrence was reached that ensured the satisfaction of the government and its people.

During the twilight of this strained period, very few individuals went without realizing that they had come out somewhat unscathed through a potentially dangerous situation. The ingredients for a civil war were all in the mix, but through a stroke of luck, circumstance had swerved to avoid it. It would not do then, the people of Naboo had recognized, to forget such an incident. Future generations needed reminding. Making mistakes were natural and inherent to learning, but repetition was simply unacceptable. So the people turned to its artists to paint a picture of their world should it have taken the path to civil war. Poems were written of loss and hate, pictures were painted depicting death and hopelessness and these works adorned portions of the capital to serve as a reminder – a voice from history warning them against the perils of the future.

One particular mural was colourfully constructed, its picture telling the tale of a mother who had lost all her seven sons, one by one, to a fruitless cause. It was this mural that Javin was staring at now. Preoccupied by its forlorn beauty, Javin spoke, voicing his thoughts.

"Why place these decorations in the capital, though? It just seems so...so melancholy."

"We should not refer to them as "decorations", Javin. They are a form of expression, and while I wouldn't dare to declare myself as a scholar of interpretation, I daresay that this mural certainly gets it message across. The people don't want to risk their lives again...too much was, and is, at stake." said James as he stood behind Javin, studying the mural from his own perspective.

"But these murals use fear to reach its ends! What use is freedom if fear is used to maintain it? I mean, then it's not freedom anymore, is it? Naboo should choose its path based on how well it would serve them. Fear might ultimately breed hate. And in the end, they'll end up doing what they feared all along."

James smiled, acknowledging the maturity in the boy's words. "Perhaps you're right. But growth doesn't often occur all at once. It's a process. Maybe Naboo will realize what you spoke of, and for their sakes, sooner rather than later. It is not really a fact that you could point out...self-realization is literal. No one can _make_ you understand, only you have the ability to flip that switch."

"I suppose then," he began with a smile, "that pointing out that we're a little heavily-dressed for this climate wouldn't convince you that your idea was quite...uh...painful? That you have to recognize this for yourself?"

"Absolutely," laughed James. "I don't see anything wrong with these sacks we've draped over ourselves. In fact, I think they emphasize your aura of tolerance."

"Figures." said Javin, as he turned away from the mural. "It would take some serious heatstroke to stir up some self-realization from you, but by that time I'd already have become one with the Force."

"Say no more, Padawan," chuckled James again, "I'll concede, I'll concede. But let's not waste any more time on the conditions of my surrender. I believe we have a senator to find."

* * *

"Senator Sonum?" repeated the receptionist, fixing her stare onto Javin, who stood in front of her.

Javin nodded. "Yes, I was told that he worked in Naboo's Senate for a time. I understand that he must be preoccupied with matters of state, and that he might even not be on Naboo at this moment...but if you could please arrange an appointment – "

James sighed softly, and interjected. "What my young friend means to say is that we humbly request an audience with the Senator's aide, should he still serve in the Senate." The receptionist nodded, but still appeared skeptical. Before she could speak, James went on. "We realize the impromptu nature of this request, but we need to get in touch with the Senator as soon as possible."

The receptionist tucked a strand of blue hair behind her ear before forcing a polite smile. But when she spoke, her voice carried with it deliberate authority. "The Senate building is not one you can simply stride into, Merchant, and demand attention! There are regulations to be followed, and rules to adhere to!"

Javin's cheeks flushed with impatience. "Look, it's not like we're going to storm into the chambers, we'd be grateful at least if you would tell us how to get in contact with Senator Sonum! At least!"

James held a placating hand in Javin's direction. Now was not the time to ruffle the feathers of an already-flustered secretary. "Madam, I was truly hoping it wouldn't come to this, given the nature of our business, but speed is of the utmost importance to us now. I was hoping that we would not have to disclose our matters to you." With that, he subtly parted his tunic to a side, revealing a glistening lightsaber clipped to a belt at his waist. He closed the tunic over it as quickly as possible.

The receptionist let out a small gasp, and when she spoke, her voice held a certain tremor. "We have no money...here..."

"Don't be absurd," said James, almost losing his patience, "We're Jedi Knights! If you haven't already heard of the bounty placed on Jedi, then you wouldn't understand why we have to move about in secrecy!" He hesitated before continuing. "You have heard about the bounty, haven't you?"

The receptionist stared at him, wide-eyed. "No Sir, no I haven't. Please accept my humble apologies. Sometimes it takes time for bad news to travel here...or to my desk at least."

"It's alright. You had no idea we were Jedi. We were told to contact Senator Sonum. By whom, I cannot tell you. However, rest assured that we mean him no harm. We could have bided our time and gathered some information about the Senator – we could have bypassed your laws in order to reach him, but we chose not to."

The receptionist smiled, but this time is was genuine. "And we greatly appreciate it, Master Jedi. Senator Sonum is no longer in service here," she watched James' and Javin's expressions fall in disappointment, but continued on hurriedly. "However..._she_ does serve on Senator Balfa's advisory board, and without being too presumptuous, I would say that she is one of his closest confidantes."

"Does she live in Theed?" asked Javin, hopeful again.

"For part of the time, yes. Her other home is on Alderaan. But fortunately for you, she is in currently in Theed, visiting with family. But, even if she was with Senator Balfa I cannot simply usher you in there. I'll have his aides question you before we arrange an appointment. You must understand that this is standard procedure. I can inform his aide of your...position, but from then on, it's out of my hands."

James sighed, relieved. "Of course, of course." He paused. "Oh, and we would be very grateful if you could please – "

" – keep this incident away from listening ears?" smiled the receptionist, "Certainly. I will see what I can do."

* * *

"This way please," said Senator Balfa's aide, Horutius Quail, as he led them down a well-lit hallway. They passed several sturdy oak doors, which Javin believed led to other chambers of other public servants. After a few minutes of twists and turns down several corridors, Horutius Quail paused at one door, entered an access code and gestured for the two Jedi to enter before him.

"Do forgive me for keeping you waiting," said Quail, "After Miss Riil, our receptionist, informed me that you needed to meet with Senator Balfa's advisor very soon and that you were Jedi, I spoke with him in the hope that you could go straight to him instead. I understand that you must not be met with delays."

James smiled appreciatively, and nodded subtly in Javin's direction; he apparently wanted his Padawan to express gratitude on behalf of both of them. "We're very thankful, Quail. Despite our few numbers, you have thanks from the Jedi Order." said Javin. "Will Advisor Sonum be able to meet with us at the same time?"

"Senator Balfa informed me that the Advisor was out of town today, but she should return soon. Perhaps in the meantime, Balfa can address some of your questions and concerns. And don't worry, such affairs that demand discretion are respected; no word of this will escape these chambers on Senator Balfa's orders. We appreciate your efforts to go through proper channels, Jedi, we really do."

With that, the pair walked into a warm, but efficient room. Senator Ortu Balfa, a slim man in his early sixties, smiled warmly at them before shaking both their hands. He gestured towards a brown suede sofa in the corner of the room, and chose discourse amongst such informal seating arrangements over conversations from across his imposing desk.

"I must say how sorry I am to be meeting you both under these circumstances." He was surprisingly soft-spoken, and almost timid, but this did not cast doubt on the man's apparent intelligence, thought Javin. "The last time a member of your Order was here...was, well...over half a year now. It has been too long for comfort."

James leaned forward, an indication to Javin that he would take the lead in this conversation. "I assume you know about the mercenaries..."

"A dirty business, that." nodded Balfa. "I must tell you that there is some truth to the rumour that the Exchange is behind some of groundwork behind these dealings. However, what is even more disturbing," he paused, lowering his voice a notch, "What is even more disturbing is that _someone_ is paying the Exchange to dispatch news of Jedi rumoured to be off-world. In other words, they're using the Exchange as an advertising tool, if you'd like to call it that. Bounty hunters then gather whatever evidence the Exchange can give them and go onwards on their hunt." He shook his head in disdain. "A terribly dirty business."

James breathed in heavily. The scope of this threat obviously ran deeper than he had imagined. Being off-world, in the countryside of Ithor, it was so easy to be isolated from all these goings-on. Complacency came naturally – the dangers that the Republic and mostly, the Jedi, now faced had been shielded from them. Silently, he chided himself for this deliberate ignorance of affairs, but on remembering his responsibility to his Padawan, he recognized that he had more than himself to protect.

"Is there any evidence that the Sith might be behind this?" he asked.

Ortu Balfa shrugged. "Honestly, Master Jedi, I'm not certain of anything. Personally, however, I do have my reservations that this is of Sith making."

"Why do you say that?" asked Javin.

"Because, and this is ironic, I tell you...there is some evidence that suggests that a Sith has been captured by some bounty hunters on Corellia not more than a few months ago. Now, this could be a simple mistake on the part of the bounty hunters, and then again, it may not. Either way, since we have no knowledge of what became of this Sith, we don't know if he was released or not."

Javin narrowed his eyes. "How do you know all of this?"

At this, the Senator chuckled. "This, my young friend, is not really a wealth of information. It is but a piece to a greater puzzle. I fear you're giving me undeserved credit for gathering this little knowledge. I am not, as I would hope, in such a high position to do so." He sighed before continuing. "Which is why I am not the least bit surprised that you wanted to meet with Kauru Sonum. I feel it is better that she tell you herself, but let me just tell you that she has had dealings with the Sith, and this is how she has come across this knowledge." At this, both James' and Javin's guard went up; their muscles stiffened. The tension was noticeable, which was why the Senator hurried to pacify his visitors. "I assure you, neither she nor I work with the Sith at any capacity...we are _friends_ of the Republic, and therefore, the Jedi as well. I cannot emphasize this enough. Kauru has had a...past with the Sith, and although she was not part of their Order, those are not memories she has cast aside and forgotten. She has confided in me, and I fear that I am doing a disservice to her by speaking of her in her absence. I do hope she'll forgive me, and that you will both forgive me...for stopping here. I am afraid that I may be overstepping my bounds."

James' shoulders relaxed, and Javin's followed in kind. They both had sensed the truth in the Senator's words.

"Say no more, Senator," said Javin. "We understand."

"All the information you have given us already has been very helpful," James added.

"Given your few numbers, I believe it will be an uphill task for the Jedi to get to the bottom of this mystery. In my mind, it is only the Sith who stand to profit from the capture of Jedi, and in this instance isn't likely that they're behind it. But you both seem to have followed a credible trail of information in searching for Sonum...so let's hope that her information proves to be fruitful." spoke Balfa as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

James and Javin glanced at each other discreetly. They did not know that the information Elori had provided them with from her datapad dealt with the bounty on Jedi. To the contrary, it had seemed that her information was linked to the Jedi instead and had ties to another matter altogether. At least, that's what James had imagined. Apparently, Senator Balfa believed that they were following leads of a different sort, and James was wary of revealing his initial intentions.

He did not have much time to ponder this, however, as a soft beeping from Balfa's desk alerted the Senator. He rose from his seat and attended to his information console. "Master Jedi," said Balfa as he addressed James, "Advisor Sonum is here and she will be with us shortly. I hope you don't mind, but out of respect for your business...and hers, I will sit this meeting out."

* * *

As soon as Kauru Sonum entered the room, the two Jedi rose to greet her. They were struck by her poise and dignified presence, one that instead of demanding respect, asked for it ever so politely. Her face was framed by deep, black hair that was lined by silver near her temples, suggestive of her age. Her eyes were equally as dark as her hair and seemed to be a window to memories she would rather not disclose. Her gaze was keen and piercing, however, and it appeared as if her senses missed nothing. She was attired formally, her dress made of a melancholy maroon cloth with barely noticeable silver hems. And with each step she took, it was as if she glided across the floor instead of walking naturally. But it was not her appearance that took the Jedi off guard, it was what emanated from her that did.

It was Javin who shifted from foot to foot, trying to contain his surprise. The Force flowed very strongly through this person in front of them; and her remarkable gift made every hair on the back of Javin's neck stand on end. His did all he could to keep from highlighting this fact, and swiftly moved his hands behind his back – using his fidgeting fingers to serve as a distraction. He glanced in James' direction to see if his Master had noticed it as well. From James' bland expression, it was difficult to fathom, but having been his Padawan for a time now, Javin knew that James must be just as astounded as he was.

"Senator...I mean, Advisor Sonum, it is a distinct pleasure to meet you. Allow me to introduce ourselves. I am James Yeo-Lan and this is my Padawan, Javin Kepp." said James as he put forth his hand in greeting.

The lady grasped his hand and then Javin's firmly before smiling. "Jedi, please forgive my formal attire, I just returned from a funeral of a friend of a friend. Please, sit. Have you both been served any refreshments as yet?"

They shook their heads, no. She gave out a small chuckle. "Ortu is a public servant, but sometimes I think what he makes up for in service he lacks in hospitability." She walked over to an intercom near the entrance and instructed her aide to bring her visitors some beverages. She turned her attention back to the Jedi. "I regret that we had to keep you waiting for so long. Ortu tells me that you did not have the chance to set up an appointment."

"No we haven't, Madam." said James. "Our meeting needed to be arranged in haste."

She moved to sit across from them, tucking her long gown underneath her before she sat. "Well, seeing as how you both are in a hurry, perhaps pleasantries need to be dispensed with and we should get down to business. What have you come to see me about?"

James started – a little taken aback by her straightforward manner. Perhaps the effect of meeting someone who emanated Force sensitivity as she did had not yet worn down, but whatever the case, James' bewilderment had not gone unnoticed, so Javin stepped in quickly. "We're following a lead, Advisor. From another Jedi who has gone missing. She left us with your name, and she may have indicated that you...or someone you know, had a link with the Jedi in the past."

Kauru Sonum's warm face suddenly turned pale, but she spoke as if nothing had perturbed her. "Everyone of Naboo's politicians have had something to do with the Jedi, Padawan Kepp, at one point or another. I have met with them on several occasions years ago." Despite her diminishing pallor and reasonable explanation, both Jedi could not dispute the fact that she was startled by the question. Both parties being Force sensitive, it was difficult to ignore the unspoken emotions that resonated from her being.

"Yes, of course," said James, recovering quickly from his first surprise to take more control over his side of the conversation. "But we also have evidence that this same individual has also had dealings with the _Sith_ in addition to the Jedi. We're not here to interrogate anyone, Advisor, but we feel we must tell you that we already know of your link to the Sith. We're aware that you're not part of their Order of their agenda...but whatever connection you had in your past is a vital piece of information that could help us sort out the future of the Jedi. We can't emphasize enough how much we need to know what you know." There. He had said it. He had bared his and Javin's desperation in the hope that it would induce sympathy on her part – if not for them, at least for their friends.

She stared at James at length before speaking. "Politics teaches you hard lessons, Gentlemen. The first one being that you simply cannot trust anyone. Ortu Balfa never has learned this lesson, but I have always taken it to heart. It's true, I do have ties to the Jedi and to the Sith, but to an extent I would rather not comment on at this moment. Let's just converse for a while before I make a decision for or against your intentions. Is that a deal?" James thought this quite fair, and nodded in agreement. Sonum then proceeded to talk. "Being Jedi, I suppose it's quite obvious to you both that I possess certain Jedi traits. When I was younger, I was told that I was very strong in the Force."

"Did the Jedi ever request that you be trained?" asked Javin.

"Well, yes...and no. Many people had a hand in my fate, and a lot of them did not agree on what was to become of me. I was to be trained at a young age, in fact, as soon as I was born. But circumstances changed, and my paths turned elsewhere."

She was being deliberately vague, realized James. And the likely reason behind her ambiguity was fear. He needed to convince her that she didn't need to be cautious around himself or Javin. And if it was someone else that she dreaded, they would not betray anything she told them. This, he recognized, could only be accomplished by being forthright. "Advisor Sonum," began James, "We did not come here to report back to the Jedi on your whereabouts, or on your successes and failures. We are here because friends dear to us need our help. We don't know where they are at the moment, and all we have to work with now is you. We...we suspect that something happened several years ago within the Order. And although this is difficult for me to admit, I am afraid it could prove to be true."

"What is it?" said Sonum, her voice steady but low. With it, it carried a tone of dreaded anticipation.

"I am afraid that the Jedi may have orchestrated or participated in a plot involving trafficking of some sort. Now I don't know for sure whether they dealt with living species, but our friend suggested that they trafficked clones, so I suppose you could say that we have good reason to believe they did. Apparently, a Sith, who was formerly known as Pietro – "

At this, the woman gasped and immediately brought her hand to her mouth. "Peter? Peter, tell me please," she grasped James hand, and he felt the icy coolness of it reflect her anxiety. "Is he alright?"

"If Pietro is Peter..." said James, speaking slowly, trying to piece the information together.

"Yes! Is he alright?" she asked again, no longer afraid to convey her distress.

"He's dead."

She let out an inadvertent breath, followed by several more. She leaned back in her seat and looked down at the floor in disbelief for several moments.

"Milady?" ventured Javin, finally. "Are you alright?"

When she spoke, she sounded hesitant, but the sadness rang clearly in her voice. "I suppose...I suppose I should have expected it all along. But you know, denial can convince you that a lie is indeed the truth. And I thought he would change, that...after a time he would come back to us. I was _so_ certain of it," Her strong-willed appearance and authoritative manner had finally given way to her emotions. This new image of her comprised of loneliness and grief – feelings that the Jedi could sense strongly. James and his Padawan looked on, as she first struggled to hold back her tears before eventually succumbing to powerful sobs.

Javin instinctively went to her side and placed an arm around her shaking shoulders. James remained in his seat, facing a dilemma of his own. He knew full well that he was the reason for Pietro's death – it was a decision he had made to protect his own Master, Atris. As timed moved on, however, he was constantly reminded of the cost of this decision. Firstly, to Elori and Javin, and now, to this poor woman.

She had gratefully accepted Javin's comforting arm, and after a short period, she turned her tear-streaked face towards James, her eyes pleading with him for something. "Tell me, Jedi, do you know how he died?"

This was the moment of truth, James realized. For his own selfish reasons and for the sake of Elori, Yustan and the Jedi Order, he knew that the truth could very likely jeopardize the chances of Sonum giving them the information they needed. For their sake, he must lie and feign ignorance. But at the same time, his conscience demanded that he own up to his actions – assume responsibility for them. She had every right to know.

"He – he was – " began James, when he was suddenly interrupted.

"_No_. No, please don't tell me. I don't think I need to know at this moment. Perhaps later. Not now. He was a Sith, just as you had said, and what manner of death meets a Sith...this I do not need to know. But you must also know, he was a good man, James Yeo-Lan, a loving and compassionate person. The Jedi had betrayed him in a way you..._simply could not comprehend_. He fulfilled for them one last oath before he found me. And then he left the Order so that we could be together. He said I was his one hope that he could start anew." Kauru Sonum stared off into the distance, recalling a fond memory before sadness was restored to her features. "But some people's pasts are not content to leave them be. Things happened...for the worse, and we were forced to separate. He said it was for our safety. He promised that even if it took him years, he would return. He gave me his word." And then quietly to herself, she said, "...and I was foolish enough to believe it."

"When did you learn that he joined the Sith?" asked Javin softly.

"Through a series of private inquiries I had made. Initially, I thought I had received the wrong information – the investigators must have had him confused with someone else. But then, ultimately, I learned it to be true. You know what's funny though? Even then, I hadn't given up hope. I _convinced _myself he had chosen this path to right a wrong the Jedi had committed. We respected the Jedi Code, but we were no fans of its teachers...its _hypocrites_." Her visage now bristled with anger. "If I told you some of the atrocities I was part of...you would be ashamed. And all of it, _all_ of it was orchestrated by the Jedi."

Despite his reservations that all the Jedi were responsible for this act she spoke of (but he was still unaware of what it was), James did not want to argue. He burned with the desire to know what had happened to her, to this person, Pietro, and ultimately to Javin and Elori. But he couldn't press her any further; it would be too unkind and callous of him to do so. Instead, he let her speak.

"I will tell you what you need to know, Jedi," she said, as if she could read his thoughts, "but only if you give me your word – the both of you – that you will either bring the people who did this to justice...or...or if they are already dead, you will bring an end to their plans. For Pietro's sake. And for the sake of our son."

"You have our word that we will try. We share the same goal, Advisor." said James solemnly.

"What if the remaining Jedi forbid you to undertake this task?" she asked James, still skeptical. "Will your loyalty to them sway your decision and weaken your honour?"

"Our loyalty, Kauru, lies with our friends. And the free citizens of the Republic. I must tell you, though, if your information suggests that their lives are in danger, and that in accomplishing your request we could very likely lose them...then we cannot do as you ask."

"Fair enough." she said. The former Senator of Naboo settled back into her seat, acquiring whatever comfort she could during this time. Javin, meanwhile, returned to his position besides James. After Sonum had wiped away her tears, she looked at them through reddened eyes and began to speak.

"I was not born, Gentlemen, as you were. I was..._engineered_. By whom, and for what nefarious purposes, I do not know. But I was not the only one of my kind. There were a few others. We were designed to carry a high-midichlorian count, much higher than many who served on the Jedi Council, I later learned. We trained from the time we were toddlers; slightly earlier than when Jedi start to teaching younglings. Force manipulation and its intricacies came naturally to us, however, more so than with younglings. We were also told that we existed to serve the Jedi, and therefore, existed through the will of the Force. Being only children, it was simply easier to believe what we were told. And so I did, for a long time, until I was sixteen.

It was then that our project ran off course. Something had happened that our teachers and engineers did not intend; one of our own had become pregnant...Myself, I didn't know the meaning of the word yet, and it sounded at the time like a disease. She was quarantined, just as a diseased person would have been, but through some mishap, she along with another clone had managed to escape. Now, don't ask me how. All I know is that it happened." At this, Javin squirmed in his seat. Instantly, James shot his Padawan a look as if to say, _now is not the time_.

The woman continued her recollections. "Following that, nothing happened for a while and life went back to how it was. We even forgot that the incident had ever occurred, despite the fact that the two who had been lost had still not been returned. We were taught, trained...and yes, we were well looked-after. But we didn't have very many freedoms as I'm sure normal Jedi do. I have now almost even come to take my liberty for granted, but not completely yet. You could say that I remember too much. I don't know how much time passed before our facility was broken into. Although there were many individuals who were behind this, I only came to know one. Yes, it was Pietro. He later told me that he had hired mercenaries to help him." Sonum paused to rub her forehead before continuing. "At any rate, he gave me my freedom. At the cost of stealing my heart," she smiled at the memory, her hands remaining folded on her lap.

"What became of the others?" asked James.

"The people who raised me in the facility managed to take them along. That was our best guess. Pietro and I searched the area for the possibility that some died during the break-in or were deliberately murdered...but we found no bodies."

"What about the facility?" asked Javin. "Surely the facility served as evidence that this project was going on?"

Sonum shook her head. "When we returned a week later, it was gone. Probably submerged beneath the waters."

"Where was the facility?"

"Kamino," said Sonum. "The Kaminoans are brilliant engineers."

James noticed that she held no anger towards the people of Kamino. She had reserved it instead for the Jedi. "How many of you existed, Kauru? Do you know?"

"I am an individual, Master Jedi. There is only _one_ me, I do not have _duplicates_." She stared at James, offended.

"I apologize," said a contrite James, "What I meant to ask you was...how many individuals were created?"

She looked upwards, trying to recall the exact number. "I couldn't tell you for certain...but in our section, around twenty. There were approximately four more sections to the entire facility. Sections that housed clones, I mean. As for the rest of the structure, your guess is as good as mine. I don't think even Pietro knew."

"That would mean that one hundred Jedi...are lost to memory." murmured James. "One hundred lives."

"So you see now, what type of an injustice we had suffered? No choice was given to us as to which paths we were to take, we were forced to be what they wanted us to be. We were bred to do so. And to deny this ever happened, to preach instead of practice – as all Jedi do – was the ultimate insult."

James nodded gravely. "I don't know what to say." He met her gaze, and within a few moments, looked away, unable to stand it. "If I could ever apologize on behalf of the Jedi who weren't aware that this was happening, I would...I would if I knew it would mean something."

Sonum let out a long breath. "Just keep your word, my friend. Just...try to do as you promised. That's all I ask. I don't think I can be of further help; just speaking about this makes me ill. For Pietro's sake, and for my son, I had to tell you. I can, however, do one final thing for you. After I left the facility with Pietro, I kept a journal. In it, you'll find the names of the Jedi Masters who instructed us. Whether they were the conspirators of this plot, I don't know, but at least it will offer you some clues as to who was."

"Is there anything else we can do?" asked Javin.

She shook her head. "No. But thank you for asking. I would like to say that it has been a pleasure to meet you both, but under these circumstances..."

"...We understand, Advisor." said James, as he and Javin rose from their seats. "You will be in our thoughts."

With that, the pair shook the Advisor's hand and left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:**

**Sharinganavenger: **Thanks for your review and critique! I will work on trying to shorten some descriptions, unless they pertain to the plot. I can be pretty stubborn sometimes, so please be patient with me. Most of all, though, thanks for being candid and for enjoying the story. It really does mean a lot. Remember, the offer to review one of your stories still stands, so don't hesitate to send me a PM if you would like me to.

**Katimnai:** As always, thanks my friend, for your reviews. I don't think I would have summoned the gumption to write sometimes, if you weren't there to read my nonsense!

**Battleship Agincourt:** Yes, I do like stories about the exile preceeding TSL as well. I guess the exile has always been a little bit more intriguing to me than Revan. The game left so many things unsaid and unexplored that it leaves so much open for interpretation. Thanks for reviewing and let me know if I can return the favour.

* * *

**ELORI**

Dawn came sooner than anticipated, and even the window blinds could not shield Elori's eyes from being hit by slits of sunlight. She scrunched them shut and rolled over, only to be assaulted by more rays of light, this time from another window. In resignation, she opened her sleep-filled eyes. Blinking slowly, her mind tried to orient itself...she was certainly aware that her time of imprisonment was over, but where she was now was somewhat of a mystery. Still, there was no anxiety or fear, so she took her time – now _that_ was a luxury she missed. Time to wake up, wash, eat...dawdle. She slowly swung her legs over the bed, and stretched. Her more reasonable side thought it best that she try recall previous events that had led to her being here, whilst the more impetuous side of her nature wanted to shut the door to those bad memories forever.

It wasn't an easy decision to make, so she did the next best thing. She procrastinated.

After putting on a set of spare clothes that Atton had provided her with, she stepped out into the living room. Her bare feet treaded noiselessly across the floor, and she surveyed her temporary quarters in the light of day. The apartment was warm but sparse. The lighting looked quite extravagant and she had the feeling that it wasn't of Atton's choosing. The same could be said about the curtains, they were thick and lustrous; the threads had certainly been weaved together by a skilled seamstress. This morning though, the curtains had been drawn, which led to a stark contrast between her brightened room and the cavernous appearance of the one she was in. But she didn't mind in the least. She strode in the direction of the sofa only to find Atton's sleeping form draped across it. Elori put an arm on his shoulder and nudged him gently.

"Unngh..." mumbled Atton, obviously still half-asleep. "You were great too, honey..."

Elori rolled her eyes. Perhaps it was best to let Mister Amorous lie in a little longer, she decided.

She made her way towards a small but efficient kitchen and started to prepare for herself a meal, when she suddenly stopped, and laughed. How strangely the human mind behaved! She had been imprisoned for several months, and her routine was anything but normal. Some days she lacked water or food, and often did not have the luxury of going to the bathroom. On other days, she would be..._processed_ for information or simply for the enjoyment of others. There was no normalcy there. But then suddenly through a twist of fate, she was thrust back into a world she knew – and a much friendlier place at that. Her thoughts and motions did not think twice about the transition, but instinctively returned to habitual nature.

She sniffed the wafting flavours of the food, and the smell made her salivate. Gosh, she was hungry.

"Up already?" spoke a voice from the living room. Atton appeared from around the corner, his hair disheveled and his eyes swollen with sleep. Upon noticing Elori's occupation with a frying pan, he said, "Uh...sorry about that, I would've made us something to eat if – "

"Don't worry," interrupted Elori, "It's alright."

As she continued to cook, Atton subtly stared at his friend through the corner of his eye. He was a little disappointed; he'd half expected her to start up more of a conversation, thanking him for bringing her here, for the kolto packs and pain relievers...

"...but that still doesn't change the fact that you tried to kill me." said Elori aloud.

He nearly jumped. Unaware of himself, his mouth parted slowly in surprise. He struggled to regain his composure and said, "…Well…you know, a man's gotta do what he's gotta do to survive," And then he cocked his head to at an angle and asked, "I thought you couldn't uh...Force read,"

"Doesn't really matter." said Elori, deliberately avoiding answering.

"Did my face speak volumes, then?" said Atton after an uncomfortable silence.

Elori sighed. "Something like that. Would you like some breakfast?"

He nodded, and she brought him half of her omelette. They laid their plates on the counter and began to eat in silence save for the metallic clinking of their utensils against their plates. Once more, Atton glanced secretly at Elori while feigning preoccupation with his food. This was not like her, to keep silent amongst friends, he thought to himself. And then he immediately altered the direction of his thoughts in the fear that she would read his feelings again. He quickly listed Pazaak cards in his head, trying hard to appear that he wasn't trying hard.

"Is the food to your liking?" she asked him politely, as she reached for her beverage.

Atton breathed in deeply and pushed himself rather quickly away from the counter. "Okay, Elori. Let's cut the crap, you have every right to be mad at me...so we might as well get this over with. Just say what you gotta say."

She looked at him curiously, and if Atton noticed anything, it was that she looked more tired than upset. "Where should I start?" Elori asked quietly.

He paused momentarily, unsure as to where she was steering this conversation. "Well...uh...back at that base, I tried to hunt you down, didn't I?" He watched as she nodded slowly and then continued. "It wasn't really like that though. I mean, I was trying to get to you, but...that wasn't my career anymore. What I _mean_ is...I didn't go back to it or anything. Ges was in trouble. Pretty deep, and I thought, hey, if I can help him out the way he helped me in the past then we'd be able to call it even."

She scratched her head. "So...you would save a life by taking one, is that it?"

Atton scowled at her. So this was where their conversation was going, was it? He pointed an accusatory finger in her direction. "Hey, don't go all high and mighty on me, sweetheart...remember, you're the Jedi! How many people have _you_ killed? Oh yeah, and let's not even _mention_ Malachor V!"

Elori leaned forward and looked at Atton head-on, unfazed. "I killed thousands – no, _hundreds_ of thousands. I positioned my fleet offensively on several worlds, gave orders and followed orders to kill without question. I have so much blood on my hands...and the faces of those people who bled haunt me even while I'm awake. At least, Atton, I _know_ what I've done. And I'm damned sure that I would rather _die_ than have it happen again. There is no "high and mighty", there is no standard. There's the truth, and then there's a lie. And you, you're lying to the most important person of all. Yourself."

Atton relaxed, feeling his anger suddenly dissipate. He didn't quite know how to respond. That was always the problem with Elori; she was never on the offensive nor the defensive. If she measured herself against any norm, certainly it wasn't one he'd recognize. Sometimes he felt that she was an instrument of some sort; she either was, or she wasn't. And judging from their ongoing conversation, she hadn't changed that much. Altogether, she was still the same. If anything, her time of capture may have reinforced these traits even further.

He sighed. "Well, there's usually good reasons for why people lie to themselves,"

"Of course," responded Elori, "...denial. You think I haven't felt the same way?"

He stared down at his shoes to avoid her gaze, and rubbed his fingers together unconsciously. "Maybe...maybe sometimes it gets hard to live with the person you really are. And then you got a couple choices. Go on with life without giving a damn, drinking pint-loads of Juma and getting high on death sticks. Or kill yourself. Or...simply invent excuses to continue the breathing process. I prefer the third route. An unjust justification. Heh."

Elori gave a small, sad smile. "Sometimes though," she said quietly, "That isn't enough to fool our consciences."

"Yours maybe," laughed Atton, "Mine's already been reinvented. I'm thinking of patenting it. Could prove to be a hit in this world of ours."

"I'll have to pass," chuckled Elori. "But for what it's worth, I do think everyone deserves a chance at redemption. Whether fate decides to give it to us or not is an entirely different situation. Some get lucky, others don't." At this, she placed a hand on his. "Yustan never meant to do what she did. She's like you, Atton, she didn't want to trust her feelings. She_ did_ love you."

"I don't want to hear about _Yustan_." responded Atton angrily, withdrawing his hand quickly. "She made her choice. It happened, it's in the past and I'm _done_ with it."

"Sure doesn't sound like you're done," said Elori, "But okay. If you said so, then it must be so. Right?" At this, she rose, winked at him and proceeded to clear up the kitchen.

* * *

Afternoon soon lapsed into evening, and Elori found herself falling asleep on the small sofa, her head resting on its arm. Atton had left the apartment to get more food and some money. The afternoon's conversation obviously hadn't made any headway, so Elori, aware of which battles she should choose to fight and which to abandon, relented to seek some much deserved sleep. At least they had decided what their next move was to be, and Atton had suggested that he accompany her – for old time's sake. Whether the gesture was intended as atonement, or whether he had tired of his life here on Alderaan, she wasn't sure; but whatever the case, she was grateful for the company.

Truth be told, though, she was somewhat disappointed in Atton. It was difficult to trust someone to whom lying was second nature, while at the same time, a lot of his ambivalent disposition seemed to have vanished. He didn't appear to be the same man who Yustan, Javin and she had met a long time ago on Nar Shaddaa. So maybe then, he was telling the truth. That's what her instinct was trying to inform her. And maybe, it had been as she had suspected all along: the wound he received from Yustan still pained him. It was as if the person whose forgiveness he needed most of all, had spurned him. Love could bring about unforgettable hurt sometimes, she realized. Not that she blamed Yustan for Atton's situation either, no, that fault partly lied at the feet of the Jedi teachings. Love and passion were two different forces; unquestionably, they were often intertwined, but they were still separate. The way she saw it, love was more permanent, more enduring. Passion was powerful, but only for a time. The latter should have been what the Jedi cautioned against, not love. If not for love, the Jedi wouldn't care for the hurt of others. They wouldn't be the guardians they proclaimed to be. If the Jedi were permitted to love, to be with the ones they were told to isolate themselves from, then perhaps their emotions would not be embraced by such turmoil. But then again...who was she to debate millennia of ancient teachings?

_You are yourself_, she suddenly recalled Yura's voice in her head, _just as I am myself_. _And easy it is, for a voice as large as the Jedi, to be heard above ours. But just as the Jedi are right about things, wrong they can be as well. It is then that we must shout, for their conscience, is who we are_.

She opened her eyes and stared at the bare ceiling. She was surprised that she didn't have any nightmares of her time in that military base. _Count your blessings_, she told herself, and began to rise from the sofa when Atton entered the room.

He had his back to her, and seemed to fumbling with the door lock. "Damn, damn, damn..." he muttered.

Elori got up quickly. "What's wrong?"

He looked pale. "The Alderaan authorities – that's what's wrong!"

"What did you do?"

"What did _I_ do? Why do you always assume it's me?!" he yelled. "It's Ges! That half-witted numbskull managed to get his face on this morning's news! He was caught on camera!"

"So...so what?" Elori asked, still perplexed. She could understand if he was concerned, but here he was – on the edge of panic. "What do the Alderaan authorities have to do with him? I thought you said he was just a small-time peddler! That military base was used by the _Exchange_, not Ges! Exchange mercenary business is illegal here!"

He gritted his teeth and slammed a hand down on the sofa. "Because...dammit...they managed to pin it all on us!"

"Us?!" It was her turn to yell now. "A minute ago I thought you said it was Ges!"

"They got me on camera too. Look," he walked towards a screen embedded in the wall of the apartment and turned it on. He flipped through the many holovid channels until he found the right one and then he paused the image.

She squinted at the blurry image of a blue Twi'lek and another human who was unmistakably Atton. "Okay," she said, letting out a breath and turning to Atton. "Let's just calm down here, alright? What are we supposed to have done?"

Atton settled down a little and sat on the couch, his old self returning. "Me and Ges – we got fingered for the entire operation. Except it's not really the truth. Alderaan officials aren't that dumb, they're painting us as bigger fish in the hopes that we'll be caught and used to implicate the real sharks in the Exchange."

"How did the authorities find the military base in the first place?" she asked.

"I don't know. All I know is that...if they find Ges, then they'll find me. Ges would crack if they held a butter knife in front of him. We gotta get out of here, Elori, we gotta move fast."

"Okay...sure. We need credits if we're going to haul ass, though. How much were you able to get?"

"Nothing!" Atton exclaimed, an unhappy look on his face. "This whole situation happened before I could even get to my account. I can't go back out there again, my face is probably plastered everywhere by now."

"There's got to be some way," mumbled Elori, trying to think hard.

"Wait, you were a Jedi!" spoke Atton, as his face lit up. "You probably have access to some funds, don't you?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Unless you existed in some alternate universe, you probably didn't take into account that the Jedi Temple's computerized records have been obliterated...? And let's not forget that little incident I had with them either." she said in sarcasm, referring to the sentence of exile passed to her by the Jedi.

"What about the credits you earned as a general in the war?"

"I can't access my personal account, Atton. It's being watched closer than a Gundark's youngling! The minute I access it, they're going to trace that activity to Alderaan!"

"But this is an emergency," he urged.

"The situation is not bad enough to warrant us running around like hens with our tails on fire. We're in Republic-friendly territory. If we play our cards right, we might just get out of here alright."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Atton.

After a few moments of deep thought, she leaned back into her seat and smiled. "I just might have an idea, or the makings of one...but you'll have to play a half-decent role here, though. There's some pretty serious acting required. Think you're up to it?"

All of a sudden, his face broke out into a grin. "Hey...you're talking to the master of duality here,"

"Good." she said, and began to inform him of her plan.

* * *

Atton Rand and Elori Mataki walked down the corridor with an escort of five Alderaan authorities. The pair's hands were bound with force cuffs and their expressions, despite the situation, were almost banal. It was Atton, however, who was being the most closely watched, not his skinny, unrecognizable companion. His face was, after all, the one being displayed all over Aldera, Alderaan's capital, as a leading player in the Exchange on this planet. Certainly, the authorities created a great ostentation of their arrest of such a wanted man, believed to be responsible for heinous acts – not only on Alderaan – but on some other worlds as well. They weren't ready to let Atton, nor this moment, slip by so easily.

The pair were led into a room that seemed to have been designed by someone with a serious attack of germaphobia. The walls were a pristine white, as was the table in the center of the room, along with the glistening metallic chairs placed around it. The guards allowed for Elori to get herself seated on her own, but shoved Atton roughly into his seat. He jerked his shoulders from their hands and put up a small fuss, goading the already frustrated guards into pushing and prodding him some more. Elori tried very hard not to smile, he was doing exceptionally well with his part.

"_Sit _down and _sit_ still," growled the man closest to Atton, as he directed a hefty truncheon towards Atton's head, threatening him with a likely blow.

"Gimme a better reason than that," snarled Atton back at his captor.

Elori glanced at Atton, alarmed. Perhaps her companion was better than he had realized. He was about to take it too far when Elori jumped in. "Where's your chief inspector?"

The first guard, Elori noticed that his nameplate read Goy, turned his attention briefly towards her, all the while keeping a wary eye on Atton. "He isn't here at the moment. You'll be speaking to Lieutenant Willcott instead."

She swallowed, a little worried now. Why did nothing ever go according to plan? She calmed herself down, _nothing to panic about yet_, she told herself. There was still time to think it through. "You mean to tell me your chief inspector is casting his absentee ballot for _this_ inquisition?" She laughed, and hoped that it sounded sardonic. "What man in his right mind would pass up a chance like this to interrogate an Exchange goombah? Why, it's like he's kicking an opportunity for a promotion up its rear!"

Goy stared at her, a little startled at her words. She seized the moment and continued. "You know, if I were him, I'd sure as hell want to know about this...and what's more, I would want to be there. I would even push all my other appointments to a side for a seat to this show. I wouldn't be too pleased if I didn't get to be here. But..." she paused here for effect, "...you guys probably don't have anything to worry about. Your Inspector is most likely a very congenial fellow. He might even forget that all this went on without him." Elori waved her hand in the air dismissively. "You guys can relax – there aren't going to be any repercussions."

At this, Goy looked anxiously in the direction of his comrade, who was guarding the room's entrance. He chewed on his lower lip for several seconds, and then said, "Roland. Maybe we'd better get him." Goy gestured towards Elori and Atton. "Willcott hasn't much experience here...at least not over Devon. Maybe we'd better get him."

Elori smiled, hiding her face.

* * *

Chief Inspector Wade Devon walked into the room quickly and without much hesitation. He carried a datapad tucked underneath his arm and a scowl on his worn visage. Without bothering himself with introductions, he sat down opposite Elori and Atton and placed his datapad down on the table. He scrolled down the page, not lifting his eyes from the small screen, and began to speak. "You two declined the services of a solicitor?"

Atton nodded. Devon kept his eyes glued to the display. "Good idea. I guess you probably know why you're here then."

"We don't _need_ a defense. The _Exchange_ doesn't need a defense." stated Atton defiantly.

"We'll soon see about that," said Devon, "You'll find that here on Alderaan, my friend, things function a little differently. You won't be able to schmooze your way out of this situation. We're not Hutts. Credits and other...merchandise; well, it just isn't as appealing." He finally looked up at Atton and smiled at him politely. "Our society is a little more civilized. Morally, too. Now, I'm going to ask you one last time. Do you want a solicitor?" Atton shook his head, no, and kept silent. "Then let me skip my preliminary speech – "

" – I'm sure it was well rehearsed," quipped Atton.

"Beautifully." retaliated Devon, unfazed at the effort from Atton to draw the older man into an argument. "As I was saying, I'm going to forego my little lecture, and get straight down to it. Who was involved in the operation? I want names, descriptions...I want you two canaries to sing as if your lives depended on it." And as an afterthought, he added, "Wait a minute, they actually do. So you shouldn't have any problems squealing."

"I thought we were the ones behind this operation." said Atton, smiling. "I don't think we're getting the credit we deserve here,"

"Don't be ridiculous, you idiot." scoffed Devon. "What kind of a fool do you take me for?"

"Well..." began Atton, before he was interrupted.

Devon jerked his index finger at the younger man. "Don't get cheeky with me, _you_. Just because you're not the brains behind the Exchange's business here doesn't mean you and your friend aren't going to get incarcerated. You may not be going in for life, but we assure you, we're going to make your stay here as uncomfortable as possible. Plus, if you keep up your smart-mouthing, I'm going to see to it personally that you're booked into the most distressing suite imaginable."

Then suddenly, Elori laughed. "Ah, Devon, still as charming as ever."

Devon looked towards her, revving himself up for an even grander admonishment, when he started, his mouth slightly open.

"You know," began Elori, "When I'd heard that you retired and sought a cozy career in law enforcement, I was thinking..._boy, what a waste_. I think I'm having second thoughts now!"

The Inspector's eyes widened momentarily, before his face succumbed to a large guffaw. "General Mataki! _You_! Here! Of all places!"

She raised her hands up, mocking a helpless gesture. "What can I say? Some people leave behind footprints..."

"...and others leave chaos!" finished the Inspector, reciting a phrase familiar, and fond still, to them both. "It's good to see you! Frankly, I never imagined I would. You look...different, though." His grin disappeared, and he looked almost grave.

"Post-war circumstances haven't exactly been...kind, Devon." She shrugged. "But what's passed is past. And it's the present – _this_ current situation – that I'm most worried about."

"I'll say," spoke Devon, rubbing his chin. "The Exchange, though, General! What did you do to piss 'em off? And who's this goofball here with you?"

Atton didn't know how to respond. But deciding that it was safe now, he held out his cuffed hands towards the Inspector awkwardly, in the form of a semi-handshake. "Atton Rand, sir. Sorry about the smart-mouthing."

Devon accepted the amicable gesture before turning his attention back to Elori. "So you both...aren't involved in any of that crap that went on at that base then?"

Elori shook her head. "Well, not really, no. It's a long story. You are aware that there's a bounty out on Jedi now?" He nodded. "Well, someone mistook me for one."

"You mean, you aren't anymore?" Devon asked incredulously.

"Another long story." she replied.

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back. "Well, it seems I've missed out on some significant events! But...not to worry, not to worry," He looked at her as if he expected to hear of her exploits, but seeing as how she wasn't very forthcoming and how time was short, that would be a tale for another day. "It's not really you we're after. No one really knows who you are, do they now?" Devon winked at her before looking at Atton. "It's him everyone wants. Him and that other Twi'lek."

Atton's face grew alarmed. "I thought you just said you knew I wasn't masterminding anything!"

"I know, son, I know." he said sympathetically, but apparently not sympathetically enough, for Atton still wore a look of concern on his face. "But I'm not really in a position of command here. I can't acquit you without a trial."

"What do you mean you're not in a position of command? You're Chief Inspector!" exclaimed Atton.

"Everyone reports to someone, son." explained Devon. "And this is Alderaan. I can't cut through red tape without going through some red tape of my own. Now, I can put my opinions into writing, I can testify at your trial – "

"A trial would take months, Devon," interjected Elori. "You _know_ he's not responsible for what went on in there. Hell, _we_ don't even know what went on in there! Isn't there a way you could let him go? For old time's sake?"

Devon sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, tired. "The only way I see it...is if I lose my job. I could let you two go – set up a fabricated escape, you both could overpower me, but..."

"...You could lose your career," finished Elori. "That won't do at all." Atton shot her a look, but she ignored him.

"No, General. I owe you. Not the other way around. You saved the lives of my men. A job's a job. I can always find another one." said Devon.

"Not if you leave your career in disgrace," she insisted. "There's got to be another way. Wait..." Elori paused for a moment, thinking, "You said we were brought in here to finger a bigger crime boss, correct? Now what if we did just that?"

Devon squinted at her. "What're you trying to say? That you really do _know_ who set up shop?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. But no one has to know that save for us three. Agreed?"

Devon nodded slowly, hesitatingly. "Agreed. But I still don't know where you're going with this,"

"Neither do I," added Atton, his curiousity piqued. Apparently, he wasn't made privy to this part of her plan.

Elori continued. "If we tell you who did it, you'll let us go? You'll be sure to give Atton and myself – "

" – and Ges," Atton interrupted.

"...You'll grant myself, Atton _and _Ges immunity from prosecution?" she asked.

"Yes, but..." stuttered Devon.

"We need to know this for certain, Devon. We need not only your word, but the word of Alderaan's monarchy for this deal. We'll need it in writing."

Devon looked up at the ceiling momentarily. When his eyes rested on Elori again, his face had the slightest hint of a smile. "Of course. You'll be granted pardon from the Royal House of Organa. Signed and sealed by the Queen and her vizier." He paused, unable to contain his grin any longer. Laughing, he said, "You know, you're still as shrewd as ever, General. And this might give you the time you need to do what you need to do."

Atton looked back and forth from the pair, perplexed. What was going on?

"Now," began Devon, "I could have the paperwork processed in a matter of hours. And you two, along with your friend, would be acquitted of all charges. So...General Mataki, would you care to tell me who was the primary operator behind the Exchange's base here in Aldera?"

"Certainly, Inspector," spoke Elori, her face breaking out into a wide grin. "It was me."

* * *

As they walked down the steps of the courthouse, Elori had keep from looking at Atton, for fear that she would break out into loud peals of laughter. Halfway down the steps, Atton placed a hand on her shoulder. She could feel his body trembling with several chuckles without even having to see him.

"Stop," she found herself laughing in turn, "Act your age..."

"...Oh, but this..." he held the back of his hand to his mouth, trying to suppress himself, "...is too much. Sometimes I used to wonder why everyone held you in such high regard! Now I know! You're just as bad as I am!"

"Atton," she began, still smiling, "The authorities are going to see through this in a couple of days. Lucky for us, we've got them tied up in too much paperwork at the moment. But they're not stupid, and as soon as they've worked through nullifying the immunity charges, they'll come searching for us again."

"Oh let me just savour the moment, for once," said Atton, jocularly.

"We'll have enough time to bask in this memory once we're out of here. It's time to do what we do best."

"Skip town?"

"You got it." she said, as they immersed themselves in the crowd.


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Was having some serious problems writing this chapter - which I intend to be a segway into the meat of the plot. I just hope it didn't turn into what Episode II was to Episodes I and III (that is, a pretty sad bridge to Anakin's growth from cute lil' scruff to Sith Lord extraodinaire. I apologize to ardent Episode II fans in advance - I didn't think it was _horrible_, just a little disappointing). Anyways, I hope this chapter doesn't come out too wooden or tedious; I want to thoroughly start to establish the relationship between Elori and Atton here, and highlight their similarities and pretty evident differences. Yes, I know, I'm awfully big on character development, but please bear with me!

Thanks again for the reviews so far - very much appreciated. I think they help fix some of my flaws as an amateur writer quite a bit.

* * *

The cantina on board the freighter was surprisingly to Atton's liking. Even after extracting all the credits that he had in his account (which he had mistakenly believed to be quite a tidy sum), they had discovered that they could only buy themselves passage on this half-decent freighter. After Elori's and his brief run-in with Alderaan's authorities, Atton could not have been in more of a greater rush to get off the planet. He needed some time to relax, someplace spacious _and_, he thought – a little guiltily – a little more opulent. He was hoping then, to travel in slightly more style and comfort than to what he was accustomed. If anything, it would serve as a relevant distraction. But five thousand credits together with a short time span was only enough to get them on board a merchant vessel, its quarters mostly filled to the brim with cargo. There were living quarters with bunks and refreshers, however, but they only served the purpose for which they were built. Nothing more. Elori had decided to retire earlier, but the close confines of his own room seemed a little too claustrophobic for Atton's momentary liking. Being quite restless, he decided to scope out the ship for a bit of activity.

Truth be told, given their initial introduction to their rooms and such, Atton only expected to find a grungy little nook, dimly lit and filled with acrid smoke and who-knew-what-else. Of course, it was those nooks that he was accustomed to and often sought solace in, but he felt a little differently today. It would be even better then, he thought, if life was more willing to cater to his needs.

Which was why he was delightfully surprised.

The cantina was cleaner than he had anticipated as well. Certainly, hazy smoke still wafted above the patrons, but it didn't seem as thick. The lights, too, weren't dangling from the ceiling by worn cords – they were embedded in the ceiling, their glow muted but warm. Above the bar hung an array of glasses, each one twinkling slightly from the soft incandescence. The bar itself was seated stolidly in the center of the room – the polished oak wood counter proudly catering to its clientele.

Atton stepped towards it and took a seat on a comfortable bar stool. The barman noticed him almost as soon as he had sat down, and approached him.

"Can I get you anything?" asked the barman.

"Give me a hit of Juma and keep 'em coming," replied Atton.

"Juma?" said the barman, his eyebrows raised. "My last customer who drank that had to be carried back to his room. You sure you don't want something lighter? I don't skimp on the alcohol when it comes to Juma."

"Do I look like a rookie to you?" said Atton, irritated. "I can handle myself. In fact, the more you spice it up, the better."

"You got it," grinned the barman.

Two minutes later, Atton beheld his drink and swirled it slowly watching the blue and violet colours infuse. It looked almost beautiful in this light, and he thought it a shame should he finish it. But then, that would only suggest that he get some more, wouldn't it?

He took a large swig of his drink, and licked his lips.

* * *

Four empty glasses of Juma sat on the counter, with a fifth ready to follow suit. Atton finished the rest of it and gestured to the barman to bring him some more. The barman acknowledged him and turned his back to Atton as he prepared the beverage.

_He sure does make a wicked Juma_, thought Atton. _Pity it hasn't really gone to my head though_. Atton was very aware of his tolerance for alcohol, and he certainly knew that his threshold was quite high for a man of his stature. He liked to think that it was a pleasing side-effect of his past career as smuggler, soldier, thief, murderer...but the real reason pulsed deeper in his veins. So deep in fact, that to unearth feelings such as those would prove to be true torment. But as immune as he was to the effects of alcohol, it always did seem to penetrate certain barriers. The barrier to emotional recognition, he thought. Part of him wished he could have come up with a better apology to Elori, not a stuttered explanation as to why he had chosen to take up his old career – even if for a brief time.

There are times, he realized, when everything ceased to matter. Gone was passion, desperation, humiliation..._feeling_. And during these moments, if death wasn't an option, there existed several ways to remain afloat. Reluctant as he was to help his old friend Ges, out, the job carried with it a semblance of his past. Not only did he excel at it, but he was aware of that fact. The chances of him getting paid a delicious sum of credits for the job rose dramatically, considering that he had had past experience. He ignored the downside of having accepted that opportunity, which in hindsight he recognized was foolish.

It brought back too many memories; many of them too vivid to for his liking. His plans and protocol were still too familiar to him, he remembered the detailed steps involved in capturing Jedi...what to look out for, what _not_ to do. It was almost second nature to him now. Atton recalled a situation in which he was instructed to travel to Telos shortly after the Mandalorian Wars. The Telosian Jedi Academy was no more, it had seemed that the Jedi had decided to relocate their institution elsewhere. At any rate, he was given information to follow two Jedi who were conducting an investigation into corruption of some sort or the other. At the time, all he had been instructed to do was to lay low and trail the pair, and report back should the situation warrant it. It was a little too easy for him, given his natural abilities to avoid suspicion and detection. But later he was given new instructions – ones that he knew would test his mettle – he was to capture one of the Jedi, and do away with the other. The problem was that the younger of the pair was a Padawan, she could not have been more than ten or eleven. His superiors expressed no interest in her; they had advised that Atton could do whatever he pleased with her, provided that she was terminated eventually. But the latter was to be apprehended alive without a public commotion. A dead Jedi would mean no credits, and a public commotion would mean...well, unabashed punishments for him.

Initially, this prospect seemed too intimidating. It was true that he had a personal taste of war; he had, in fact, fought both Republic and Sith forces. But that was war, and war was permanently shackled to murder and death. This type of stealthy assault had been new to him, and he wasn't quite sure that he liked it. Atton had just gathered up his courage to suggest that someone else undertake this task, when the makings of a plan had slowly crept into his mind.

Knowing full well that there was often a bond between a Jedi Master and a Padawan, he saw an opportunity. An opportunity to exploit that connection. He laid low for a few more days, analyzing and evaluating their routine, trying to determine which moment would prove most opportune. When it did arrive, he had managed to lure them into an empty Pazaak den with a false lead playing the dangling carrot. Atton had gone through a lot of trouble to ensure that the lead did not reek of danger, that it tread the delicate line of unimportance and relevance. Fortunately for him, his "lead" had provided tempting enough for the Jedi to follow. Unfortunately for the Jedi, however, they had been enticed into a trap. And it wouldn't be long before they recognized it for what it was.

At first, it had been easy for him to engage the Padawan alone, while she was out of her Master's line of sight. But their Force connection soon told all, and within the span of a few minutes, her Master was brandishing his lightsaber all but a few feet in front of Atton...and truth be told, he was as scared as hell. Not many choices flashed before his eyes, but of the few that did was that he had the one bargaining chip that could save his life. Atton had held the Padawan firmly but not unkindly at first. However, seeing as how the walls were closing in on him, a more ruthless side of him began to take over. He had shoved the butt of his pistol harder into the Padawan's temple causing her Master to heed Atton's warning, and back down. Atton had nodded in the direction of the Jedi's lightsaber, which then lay in the grip of its owner, indicating that it should be tossed aside or else. The Jedi had done so.

All the while, Atton could feel the invisible reach of his opponent, trying to creep his way into Atton's mind; attempting to decipher his thoughts, read his plans. But pazaak numbers trafficked within Atton's head, rendering his adversary's probing useless; an effect that served to confuse the Jedi more than it aided him. It was very tiring for Atton, however, and despite his success at luring the pair into his trap, he found it very difficult to seal the deal. That is, capturing a Jedi took some serious improvisation. Finally, he quickly snatched up a syringe out of his pocket, opened its cap with his teeth (all the while keeping his eyes on the Jedi), and demanded that the Jedi jab the full dose of the syringe's contents into his thigh. The tranquilizer had been a plan B of sorts; he had taken it along in case his captive regained consciousness after a fight, or who knew what else. As it turned out, it had come in very handy. The Jedi, fearing for the life of his Padawan, reluctantly accepted the syringe, and slowly plunged the needle into his flesh, watching his Padawan's fearful face as the liquid began to seep into his bloodstream.

A minute into the injection, the Jedi's eyelids began to droop and he staggered around woozily – finally collapsing onto the floor. Unconscious that he still had the butt of his pistol pressed up against the Padawan's temple, Atton bided his time for several moments to ensure that the Jedi was truly knocked out. He knew the Jedi were trained to resist a variety of poisons and such, and Atton certainly wasn't prepared to take a chance merely based on impatience. But the tranquilizer was dutifully true to its reputation – potent and effective – it had done the job well. Atton only hoped that it hadn't done it _too_ well; and that the Jedi was still alive – it was quite possible that he had received a larger than normal dose.

But now, fully aware that he had a Padawan to deal with, and a traumatized one at that, he lost his cool. Part of him needed for her to be let go; it was the right thing to do considering her recent experience. But his rationale insisted that this would only lead to more trouble, that if he started the job then he ought to finish it, and finish it well. Night was morphing into morning, and he had to make a quick decision. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tightened his grip on the trigger and pulled it. He listened for the sound of the laser bolt, but nothing came out. The damned thing hadn't been charged!

The Padawan wasted no time in seizing her chance. She struggled and quickly broke free – running flat out towards the nearest exit. Panic seized Atton and like a starving predator after its prey, he threw himself bodily onto the Padawan, knocking her to the floor. He pressed his entire weight on her much smaller body, allowing for her only the freedom to writhe and let out muffled cries for help. Out of the corner of his now-bloodshot eyes he detected some movement and it wasn't long before he recognized the Jedi's lightsaber slowly but assuredly moving towards him. Atton yelled out in anger and viciously turned the Padawan onto her back. She had lost her focus on the lightsaber – there was no danger now for him now. He stared at her face, her chin was grazed and there was a slight trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. But her eyes...her eyes, surprisingly, were not fearful.

And that angered him.

After all he'd done, after all he'd inflicted on her and her master, why wasn't she trembling before him? Why wasn't she begging?

He would give her reason to, he decided. It made him feel powerful; the idea of being able to decide the fate of another human being. And a Jedi, at that. Unable to restrain himself, he brought his hands slowly up to her neck – whether he did this slowly or not, he could not remember; the moment itself seemed transient – and locked his fingers around it in a vice-like grip. He didn't really feel her movement underneath him – all his energy, all his hatred, was fixated on extinguishing the life in front of him.

And soon, his want was fulfilled.

* * *

"All I'm saying, son, is that that's your seventh glass, and I'm obligated to – for your best interest _and _mine – to tell you stop," spoke the barman sternly, but not unkindly. His face was passive – there were no visible signs of frustration or anger...and Atton felt that familiar spark in his temper; why wasn't this idiot throwing him out of this cantina? _Doesn't anyone react to anything anymore?_

Atton was about to spurt out a nasty little retort when he felt a hand on his shoulder. This only added more fuel to the fire, and he spun around on his stool, swiping the hand away. He looked up to see Elori staring at him in surprise. Her astonishment quickly dissipated and was replaced by anger of her own.

"You know, it's a wonder no one's flung you out of the airlock yet." she said.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant, but his frown remained. He swung his barstool around, deliberately turning his back to her and spoke to the barman. "I'm not paying you to stand there and breathe, keep those Jumas coming,"

Elori fixed her gaze on the barman and said, "He doesn't need anymore," and then on seeing the barman's confused face, "I'll take it from here, don't worry."

"_Like hell you will_." muttered Atton. He stood up straighter in his seat, and the corner of his mouth curled as he sneered at her. "General Mataki, former aide de camp to Revan. Always on top of things, always responsible, always in control...with that many commendations I'm surprised you're not weighted down with the medals you were given. Oh wait...you didn't receive any, did you? Because you refused...was that it? How very _honourable_ of you."

Atton looked sideways at her, hoping his provocation garnered some kind of response. But as usual, she was –

Suddenly, Elori seized him by the scruff of his jacket and yanked him off his stool. Her grip was strong; stronger than he had anticipated. He didn't know if he should have been embarrassed or annoyed, but his thoughts weren't granted much leeway since she obviously wasn't through with him. He felt himself being thrust onto the cold floor and then roughly picked up again. Part of Atton wanted to resist, but whether it was the effects of the alcohol or something else, he found his ability to fight considerably diminished. He was half-dragged out of the cantina and through a myriad of corridors back into his room, all the while muttering obscenities under his breath as Elori hauled him along wordlessly.

She flung him onto his bunk and shut the door. "Are you quite finished?"

Atton scowled back up at her. "Plenty more where that came from, sister," he said.

"Are you looking for a fight, Atton?" she asked, her tone dangerously calm now.

"That depends. Are you offering me one?"

"Are you looking for a fight or for someone to blame for your mistakes?" she repeated. He maintained his angry gaze on her, and remained silent. "Because within the span of a few hours, you've managed to tell everyone on this goddamned boat that I served with Revan and was a soldier in the Mandalorian wars. It won't be long before someone puts two and two together and realizes I used to be a Jedi."

Then Atton opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off angrily. "You _shut up_ when I'm speaking to you!" His lips closed back together again and despite his stupor, he managed to fix his attention on the skinny woman before him. "And those aren't the least of your mistakes either! _You_ chose your path, _you_ chose to kill..._you_ chose to destroy lives. Force knows, I did the same thing. But there's a pretty large gap between you and me Atton. I'm paying for those lives I took. Every single day. Maybe...maybe until the day I die. I'm not looking to pin it on someone else."

He started to rise from his bunk, summoning up a coherent rebuttal. "You think I haven't _paid_?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Do you honestly think I haven't suffered for the things I've done? What do you want me to do, Elori? Cut off a bit of my heart every day until there's nothing left? Someone who I thought could actually love me...hell, you know, I think she really did – left me because she couldn't stand for what I'd done. Things so repulsive; I'm so filthy that I have to make it through each day as another person. There's just no tolerating who I really am."

"You want sympathy then, Atton? You won't get any from me. And you _know_ Yustan left you because of her commitment to being a Jedi. I tried to tell you earlier that she was unhappy with her decision, but _you_...you would have none of it. If you want to believe what your head tells you, then you go right ahead."

Atton swallowed, unable to hold back his bitterness; that which he was so accustomed to. "You should have left me on Alderaan."

"But I didn't, did I?"

"I don't need any favours from you or anybody. I don't want to have to owe anybody _anything_." he retorted.

Elori pursed her lips together. "The gesture was a gift. From one friend to another. Not a loan."

"Yeah...well, you don't choose your friends well – that much is obvious."

"Nonetheless, it _is _my decision. And I'll suffer the consequences, if there are any." she said, almost on the verge of another outburst. She watched quietly for a moment as Atton's face fell, and then spoke a little more gently, reigning in her temper. "Look, it's just that...well, I'm doing this because it's what I would have wanted someone to do for me."

"And no one did?" he asked, momentarily intrigued.

"No, someone did," she said smiling, as her thoughts turned to Yura, "And she taught me...so many things. I wasted too much time, Atton, waiting for something to change. I expected ridiculous things. I thought the Council would help me, forgive me – that they would let me off with only a warning. And when it didn't happen, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. It's just...hard to explain. I didn't have this sense of belonging. It was as if the past had ruined my future, but the worst thing was that it was all through my own doing. Now _that_ was a bitter pill to swallow." She sat down on the edge of the bed as her shoulders drooped. "But meeting you, Yustan, _Javin_...it seemed like I was handed a clean slate that I obviously didn't deserve. I'm not about to throw it away on account of indulging in self-pity." She turned to Atton, her eyes looking pleadingly into his, hoping to appeal to his gentler nature. "And you've been given that same chance, don't you see? And for some reason, I can't just sit idly by and watch you throw it into the gutter."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Of course."

He took a deep breath. Half of him wanted to prolong this argument while his other half urged him to pour out his soul. About Yustan, the Jedi, the Sith, everyone. But an offensive front was one which he had known his entire life. It made people back off, it made them realize he was certainly not worth the trouble. It made him tough. He had known kindness; but its touch was fleeting – almost like dappled sunlight. It was too evasive, and frankly, if it did not want to come to him, then he certainly wouldn't come to it.

He shook his head, still mistrustful. "Nah. I appreciate you taking on this charity case, Elori, I really do. I think you should be commended for putting up with me for the short time you did. But let's face it, deep down, you're still a Jedi. Once you've used me, once you've got what you want...then you'll just let me hang for all you care."

She leapt up quickly to her feet, and stood directly in front of him. Her eyes pierced his own, and even though her body was a shadow of her former self, he had no doubt that she derived her strength from elsewhere.

Just as he revved himself up for another war of words, he felt a heavy blow to his stomach. His breath rushed out of his lungs quicker than ever as her knuckles dove into his flesh, and he crumpled to the floor. After several seconds, he managed to hoist himself onto his knees, one hand still on the floor and the other holding his injured abdomen.

"Get up, Atton." came her voice. _Damn, it sounded cold_, he realized. "Get up or I'm going to hit you again."

He staggered to his feet, his pride wounded. But he managed to meet her gaze nevertheless. This time he saw her fist swing towards the side of his head, and this time he was able to stop it. He thought he detected the hint of a smile on her face, but he was still rather inebriated and was able to only concentrate on one thing at a time. Elori took advantage of this momentary loss of focus, and directed a blow to his left cheekbone. His head reeled with the impact and for a second all he could see was blinding white light.

She wasn't fighting like a Jedi, he realized. If she was, there was a chance he could've previsioned her movements. But he couldn't sense the Force, and it was obvious that her actions were more offensive and less defensive – the latter very characteristic of Jedi in most situations.

In the next moment she had yanked him forward by his arm, pulling him in front of her. Within seconds, she had him half-standing before her, her arm choke-holding him. Whenever he tried to react, the hold grew stronger and his sight grew dimmer.

She snarled at him. "What's the matter Atton? Cat got your tongue?" He let out a heaving rasp, and she laughed sardonically. "I thought you were tough, I thought you were a survivor." Another heaving breath emanated from his throat. "But look at you. You're about ready to drown in your own vomit. What's that?" she asked, allowing for Atton to let out some ragged words.

"I...know..."

"You know? What do _you_ know?"

"Air...Elori..."

"You mean you want me to let go?" she asked. Atton attempted to nod, but his body wasn't responding appropriately. "Why should I?" she asked again.

"Don't...wanna die..."

She lowered her mouth to his ear, and whispered softly but clearly into it. "I'm just offering you a one-way ticket to where you want to go – albeit a faster route. But the choice is yours. And frankly, I'm in no mood to help someone who doesn't want to help themselves." She relaxed her grip on his throat somewhat, "If you want to go your own way, then go. But make sure you do a better job of hiding than the last time. There's no chance in hell I'll stick my neck out for you again. Now what's it going to be?"

"..._I don't want to die_," he murmured.

Elori let loose a heavy breath, and flung Atton away from her. He slid across the floor, his head hitting a cabinet with a thud. He grimaced in pain, and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, he saw her silhouette in the doorway.

"Then start living." she said, before shutting the door behind her.

* * *

The following day found Atton sleeping heavily in his bunk, a pillow over his head, muffling his sporadic snores. As the unconsciousness of sleep dwindled, he became more aware of the throbbing pain at the back of his head. No, the side of his head. Within a matter of seconds, his whole body began to remember what his mind did not; steady aches swept across several joints and muscles - he felt as if he had been tenderized by a vibrostick. Damned Jumas – they were even more potent than usual. Suddenly it dawned on him that the alcohol wasn't the sole culprit, as the events of the night before slid back into memory.

If he had expected anything of Elori, that surely wasn't it. A loquacious lecture perhaps, but certainly not a pummeling. It was as if she had walked boldly into his thoughts, not his everyday memories or imaginings, but the thoughts that had been carefully sealed and tucked away. The ones that not even Jedi could get to. _And_, he thought sarcastically, _it didn't take her very long to release those emotions_. It made him feel terribly uncomfortable. If he'd thought her a Jedi before, she certainly wasn't anymore.

Before he could give any more thought to the matter, the door to his cabin hissed open.

_Speak of the devil_, he thought, as Elori strode in, her arms crossed in front of her. Her face wore an expression of concern.

"We've got to get off at the next port." she said, cutting through pleasantries.

Atton managed to prop himself up in his bunk, as he looked at her groggily, processing the implication of her words. "What? Why?"

"Because there's a possibility someone's figured out that I was a Jedi. Or still believes I am."

His mind laboured too sluggishly for his liking. "You mean...there's Sith on board?"

Elori shook her head and spoke slowly, last night's beating and this morning's hangover weren't doing Atton's senses any favour. "No. I mean there's quite a hefty bounty on my head. There are plenty of people on this freighter, Atton. Chances are that sooner or later, someone is going to collect."

Atton rubbed his midriff, grimacing at the recollection of his beating. "I feel sorry for them."

She couldn't help but smile. "Be that as it may, I would rather avoid any more...entanglements. We don't need any extra attention," she scratched the side of her head thoughtfully. "We were going to get off at Deralia, but seeing as how that's a good two days of travel from where we're at, I'd rather we left this boat sooner."

"Well, where's the next port then?" asked Atton.

"Naboo," she answered. "Republic-friendly territory, and seeing as how I had the intent of going there initially – "

"When?"

"Oh, about a year ago."

"Why?"

She paused, reluctant to offer explanations of her past and that of Javin's as well. "It's just...something that had to do with the Jedi before the Mandalorian wars." She studied Atton's face closely to see if he was buying it, but he remained detached to this piece of news. She continued, "Anyway, the way I see it, Naboo's a stop we have to make whether we like it or not."

"Do you think Alderaan's authorities are in cahoots with Naboo's?" he asked, worried that they might both be fugitives on this planet as well.

Elori shrugged. "Probably. But I doubt that Devon would put our faces out there next to some of the most wanted criminals. My guess would be that if we keep a low profile, we should be alright."

Atton demurred, "I suppose it's like you said. We don't really have a choice."

"Well, technically speaking, _I_ don't have a choice. You do. You're free to do whatever you want. If you want to part ways, then this would be a good time."

He looked back up at her, trying to ascertain whether this gesture was bait to ensnare him into another argument – the consequences of their last one was particularly harsh, and he daren't tempt fate again. But it was near impossible to read her emotions at this instant, and he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt – perhaps her offer was genuine. "Nah, I think I'll tag along," he decided, "You gotta have _someone_ to take out your anger on."

Elori couldn't help but feel embarrassed. She smiled, "I...owe you an apology for last night," and on seeing him smirk, "...the least I could have done is to wait until you're fully recovered from your hangover. Give you a fighting chance."

Atton massaged the back of his neck as he spoke, "I suppose. But I'd rather we not do that again. Drunk or no." He sighed, "But you know, as hard as you are to figure out sometimes, it's easy to see why you did what you did. I'm only surprised you hadn't kicked my sorry ass before."

"The thought had crossed my mind," she admitted.

"I'm sure," laughed Atton, "but seriously, I...I think I need to move on in a different direction. Maybe do something...uh...useful for once. You know."

Elori nodded.

"And...if there's a chance that we might see her again," Atton found it difficult to mention Yustan's name, "then that would give me even more reason to come with you."

"I have to admit, some company along the way is much appreciated," she said gratefully as Atton started moving around his cabin, placing what few items he had into a tattered rucksack.

As he busily packed his belongings, he asked, "So what exactly happened? Who tipped you off?"

Elori sighed and sat down on the edge of his bunk. "It's a long story."

Atton paused and turned, holding a white shirt in his hand. "Well, it's not like either one of us is gonna teleport off this ship this instant..."

"Alright," she relented, "It probably happened a few hours after I left you last night..."

* * *

**SIX HOURS AGO**

Elori walked purposefully down the corridor towards her room. Her face was dark and she was in no mood for conversation or solace. Atton's recent behavior had pushed her steadily towards the brink of breaking bones. Which she had very nearly done, she suddenly realized. Letting go of the reigns as she had gave her a momentary rush; but it was only comparable by a trace to what she had succumbed to on Coruscant. Who she had become back then. Someone utterly capable of betraying and destroying her friends.

_We'll have no more of those thoughts_, she decided, snatching those memories away from the grip of self-pity. The past is past, use it only as a guide, not as a lash to embitter the soul.

Tired now, she unlocked the door to her room and as she was about to enter, the toe of her boot touched something, letting out a soft, unmistakable metallic clink. In the dim hallway, she discerned the rectangular outline of what appeared to be a datapad. She picked the datapad up and following a cursory examination of it, looked around the hallway for its owner. There was no one to be seen.

She strode into her room and sat on her bunk, her mind preoccupied by the presence of the new object. Elori switched it on and within a few seconds the screen flickered to life. Her eyes scrutinized the distinct Basic characters, as she read the note that she hoped did not spell trouble.

_I mean no harm by leaving this message for you; in fact, I hope that it will cause you to avoid the dangers which you could possibly face if you disregard my warning. I have stood idly by for far too long – allowing for others to suffer as I focused on nothing but self-preservation. I suppose it is a culmination of past events that leads me to reach out to you. And I fervently hope that you will treat this as a serious matter. For once, my interests are not placed in front of another's. For the first time in a long time, my gesture will help protect._

Elori placed the datapad on the bed beside her, and began to undo her boots. Whoever it was, they were surely going out of their way to convince her of their legitimacy and sincere intentions. But there existed several who were assured that a lie was a truth, and who believed wholeheartedly that their ideals and motives possessed no flaws. It was these people, then, who one had to be most cautious about, not the swindlers or the liars. For while swindlers and liars would stop short of doing harm to themselves, true believers would endure severe trials to reach their ends. Often at the costly expense of others.

Pushing her boots to a side with her foot, she drew her knees up to her chest and continued to read.

_There are many eager ears on this ship, and because of time's fleeting nature, I must be short and frank. Rumour, which of this moment exists as idle chatter, has it that you are a Jedi. There are many who remain unconvinced of this fact (for a fact is what I believe it to be), but news travel fast and I cannot hide that there are some whose attentions you have stirred. It won't be long before the pieces fall into place. Some of the people on board have some questionable and notorious connections, and sensing that you are someone who wishes to avoid undue attention, you would be well-advised to follow my counsel. _

_Oh boy_, breathed out Elori. The warning appeared to be the ramblings of a deluded mind. In fact, it seemed to be almost drenched in the beliefs of semi-fanatic – someone who saw darkness and despair at every turn – who saw his life's purpose in thwarting it, and who lived in a fantasy akin to an overly dramatic holovid. Be that as it may though, she simply could not dismiss the matter for what it was. Something about her verdict did not smell right. Perhaps all they wanted was to be bothersome, until a sufficient amount of credits were thrust under their nose. Or perhaps the warning was sincere.

Either way, she thought, what was the harm in checking this out?

_Maybe this is entrapment, _prodded her conscience_. Maybe by coming forth you're proving a point they had suspected for a good while now; that you were a Jedi and that the price on your head still carries good weight in these parts_.

But given that she had already crossed the line of restraint (she couldn't help but cringe when she recalled her recent outburst at Atton), she wasn't exactly in the frame of mind to be overly cautious and read on.

_I could tell you the reasons for why my fears are founded, and a large part of me wishes to do so, seeing as how you must already have come to a decision about my lucidity. (I doubt it's a favourable judgment, but no matter. You can decide for yourself.) But I cannot take a risk in allowing for prying eyes to stumble upon this message. It's best that you hear the truth from my own mouth and as soon as possible. _

_I will meet with you near the storage lockers on the fifth deck, and we can converse in relative privacy there. __**I**__ will come to __**you**__, so I urge you not to approach any strangers with the belief that one of them might be me. When I see you, I shall shake you by the hand and call you "Captain" and that should spare the both of us some confusion._

_I understand that all this must come as a bit of surprise and that you would be foolish to withhold skepticism, which is why you can bring with you any arms that you deem necessary for your own peace of mind. This will help convince you that I am not seeking your acquaintance to cause you any harm_.

_I hope, for your sake and that of your companion, that this plea reaches you_.

_A friend_.

And it ended there, rather abruptly. Elori blinked her eyes in partial disbelief. Well, so there it was. The entire situation suddenly broke itself down into its elements – her so-called friend was either telling the truth or he wasn't. Should she choose to ignore his overtures, there would be no way of knowing if his appeals were honest or not. In foresight she knew that if she came to that decision, this night would prove to be a sleepless one.

Oh well, she decided, there's only one way to find out.

* * *

Just as her messenger had promised, the storage rooms on deck five were devoid of bustling activity. Well, _any_ activity, for that matter. As she walked slowly down the makeshift, interlocking passages lined with large, yet full, storage spaces, she kept a wary eye out for her mysterious friend. The rooms were unremarkable; each looked as banal as the next – save for the stacking of several containers atop one another, and the sour-metallic odour emanating from the crates. Through a gap in the stacks, she detected movement and made her way towards it.

A man, much older than Elori, emerged from the shadows almost as cautiously as she did. For a minute, his features were indiscernible in the dim lighting, but as the darkness slid away from his face, she noticed his weathered countenance, and met his tired eyes with her own.

"Captain?" came the voice, sounding unnaturally young for one who appeared to be so aged.

She nodded, recognizing that perhaps he may not be as old as his demeanor suggested.

He held out his hand. As she grasped it, she noticed that it was quite smooth, not weather-ridden or wrinkled. "Torus Reese," he said, as he introduced himself. "A pity we have to meet under such circumstances."

"Elori," she responded. "And what circumstances exactly are we um...under?"

Torus Reese's eyes darted about; as if they caught sight of invisible spies skulking about. "I could cut to the chase...would you like me to cut to the chase?" he offered, his voice wavering slightly.

If the man was anything, Elori realized, he was certainly paranoid. Either that, or he was waiting for reinforcements. Almost as if he could decipher her train of thought, he said, "There's no one else here, I promise. I've waited here about two hours straight. No one bothers with this place until after we dock."

Elori stared at him, her patience was wearing thin. If the man was indeed delusional, then she would prefer that that conclusion be reached sooner rather than later. At the same time, however, she didn't want to insinuate or let on that she thought him a little unhinged. Who knew what could ensue if that were to happen? "Torus, it's very kind of you to reach out to me and warn me, but unless you tell me what I'm supposed to be so frightened of, I can't...well, take any measures against this enemy."

Torus nodded and massaged the bridge of his nose. His voice sounded tired. "I'm being hunted, by cretins within Czerka, the Exchange...at this point it's hard to distinguish one enemy from the other. My sole purpose so far has been to stay alive."

"You're a Jedi then?" asked Elori, as a small piece of the puzzle began to orient itself correctly. Perhaps there might be a shred of truth to his anxious speculations.

"Yes. I've been on this freighter for a good week now. I was tempted to get off at Alderaan – so tempted...they have procedures by which they've set up protection for Jedi. But stepping into programs like that is like having a spotlight shone on you wherever you go. Those measures simply aren't enough."

"I can't protect you from bounty hunters, Torus," explained Elori gently, "But you can travel with us for a short while, if it'll give you some peace of mind."

Torus shook his head. "Where one Jedi is bad, two is worse," he said, refusing her offer.

"I'm not a Jedi,"

He sighed, displaying some frustrations of his own. "It doesn't matter what I think. People are beginning to figure out that you served Revan – and that means that you were a Jedi at one point or another. Chronology and technicalities are irrelevant. As far as they can see, or can accept, you're a Jedi."

She fixed her gaze on Torus, trying exhaustingly to mask her bewilderment. She certainly hadn't expected Atton's slip of the tongue to propagate news so swiftly. "It's just a rumour," she said, trying to dwindle _his _interests at least.

Her effort didn't dissuade him. "In my experience, those who try hard to stifle a rumour are those who're stifling a truth." Torus placed a hand on her shoulder. "Look, it's like I said: my opinions are irrelevant. Even if I'm convinced, there are others who will not be."

"I've evaded bounty hunters before," said Elori, her confidence evidently wavering.

"My dear friend, the bounty hunters aren't what I came to warn you about. There are...other elements playing a part in our lives." Torus gestured to a crate behind Elori. After she was seated on it, he continued. "Has it ever occurred to you why our numbers are decimating so rapidly?"

"Well I thought that with the prices on our heads that many bounty hunters – "

" – it would take an army of bounty hunters to cause such dramatic effects," interrupted Torus. "No, there are other factors at stake. The Sith, for example."

"_The Sith_?" blurted Elori. "Revan defeated them. Malak's armada...the Star Forge, it's all been destroyed."

"Let's just say that there's a more subtle force at work here. I've seen them..." he murmured, his voice tapering off into silence, as he walked into a memory he obviously did not enjoy. Elori thought she saw him shudder. "They travel in the shadows, take human form but yet...are not one of us. I've never even caught a glimpse of their faces. They're masked – they are. By a veil of black cloth," Torus swept his hand across his face, dramatizing his narration. "They're more prevalent than we had originally believed. And cunning. Whoever they take their orders from – it definitely wasn't Malak."

Elori leaned in closer. She toed the line tentatively between belief and disbelief once again. "They're not human?" she repeated, "How can you be so sure?"

"No multicellular creature – sentient or no – can withstand what they did. I remember...when we were cornered, my companion lashed out – our enemy took a pretty hefty gash to his chest. But he just stumbled – enough for us to make our getaway. But he continued to pursue us, running as if he had merely been scratched."

Elori's eyes narrowed. He certainly seemed terrified of this new menace; but the threat seemed as if it fit into a good old fashioned yarn; not a recollection of reality past. However, Torus spoke earnestly, with fear evident in his eyes. The least she could do was attempt to comprehend both him and his warnings. "Where do they come from?"

Torus glanced behind him nervously, and then turned back to Elori. "We don't really know, but..."

"...but what?" persisted Elori impatiently. "Any information is crucial, Torus."

"There has been some mention of embodiment of the dark side – " he began.

" – the Sith'ari?" asked Elori. "Every Jedi knows about that,"

"No, no. The Sith'ari is the culmination of every Sith teaching – the perfect being of the Sith. It's what they strive to attain, but something that they have never reached. I believe it's more of a philosophical plain. This is different. I've heard my masters speak of some teachings in Sith holocrons. About how Exar Kun discovered paths to create a semi-being; borne of the dark side, with no will of its own save its master. Initially, we dismissed our speculations to hearsay – even our masters said that the information was never properly validated. But the more we studied these creatures, the more convinced we were that that was what they are. Or at least, that's closest explanation we could garner."

"Can they be stopped?" asked Elori.

"You can destroy one, yes." replied Torus. "But for every loss they suffer, it seems that more emerge. In different places, yes. They're becoming braver, if one could say that. They still dwell in the shadows but they don't retreat from a fight as much anymore. Or at least that's what I've heard."

"I see," said Elori, apparently still at a quandary over which of his declarations were truthful and which weren't. Past experience had taught her that no matter how tight the corner, one should always keep an open mind. Now that wasn't to say that she should swallow whatever came her way, but alternative choices were always handy to have. Perhaps this man was honest, or perhaps he wasn't. Either way, it couldn't do much harm to keep in mind his story – extra precautions on her part would serve to aid rather than hinder.

"What do you suggest I do then, Torus?" she asked.

He placed his hands on knees and looked at her square in the eyes. He spoke vehemently, "You should be vigilant, friend. Trust to no one. If you still have friends or loved ones, I suggest you remove yourself far from them. No harm will come to them if they're not in your presence. This threat seeks the Jedi only."

Elori couldn't help but sigh. "It's just quite a bit to take in...especially all at once. I suppose we could get off at the next port..."

"That's what I would do," concurred Torus. "I would seek refuge someplace; away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. I would seek exile."

Elori said nothing in response, her mind lost in turbulent thoughts.

* * *

**THE PRESENT**

"So that's it?" Atton almost yelped. "We're ditching our plans on account of that weirdo and his ghoulies?"

Elori held up her hands in pacification. "I didn't say I believed him, now did I?"

"You didn't have to!" retorted Atton.

"All I'm saying is that I have to make a stop at Naboo anyway, so this little direction we're about go in fits in pretty well." said Elori, trying to defend her decision.

"You still didn't answer my question. Does that kook have you going on about those Sith delinquents now too?"

She rose from the bunk, palms slightly cold. "Maybe...I...I don't know yet, Atton! For Heaven's sake! I don't know! I could ignore him and throw caution to the wind, but if..._if_ he's right, then we've got a lot more to worry about than bounty hunters. And frankly, it makes better sense to keep his warnings in mind than to dismiss everything he's said just because we think he's the local nutter."

Atton breathed out heavily in frustration. And then more softly, he said, "He most probably _is _the local nutter. Now, I'm not denying that people on board are figuring out who you are – but that may be the only truth to his tale."

"Why would he lie, Atton? What does he stand to gain from it?"

"Nothing. That's why," began Atton, holding his index finger in the air purposefully, "he's the local nutter."

Elori rolled her eyes, evidently stymied at Atton's dogged attempts to disprove Torus' motives and his stories. Recognizing that no truths could be uncovered through this sort of back-and-forth banter, she said, "You can still stay here, if you want. Do whatever you please. I'm not your keeper."

Atton stared at her for a few seconds, before his deadpan expression broke into a stifled laugh. She almost looked as if she was about ready to sit down and sulk. "Now I didn't say that I wouldn't tag along." He paused briefly. The frown still hadn't left her face. "All I did say...and am saying, is that this whole Sith zombie thing sounds like a tale of yore. _Fearful, loathsome creatures stalk the galaxy once more..._" He stretched his arms out in front of him, and walked around the small room, mimicking an undead monster he'd seen in a holovid. "_If you listen carefully, you can hear their whispers: Jedi, Jedi..._"

She scowled at him; his dramatization drawing from her more ire. "You know something? I hope they _are_ real. And if they are, I hope they come and get _you_ first of all." She turned her back on him, and before walking out the door said, "We're leaving in three hours."

Atton gave out a victorious little chuckle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note:**

I honestly didn't intend for this chapter to be this long, but I've discovered that most times it's the story that takes _you_ places and not vice versa. As promised, I'm working my way into the meatier portion of the plot, which means...that's right, no more rambling descriptions from Jord, who loves to immerse herself in would-be history and the like! ;)

A little thing to note, on a whim (and as my version of a thank-you) I decided to include one of my reviewers into this chapter as a brief, cameo character (with her permission of course). Sharinganavenger, if you do manage to read this chapter, I would happily do the same for you – if it isn't an embarrassment, that is. Heh heh. Of course, it would be great if you could tell me what name you would like to use and what kind of character you'd like to be. I had jokingly suggested to Katimnai that I would portray her as a denizen of the dark, but I was virtuous and good, and restrained myself.

Aaaanyways...I'm sure this author's note makes me seem light-headed and/or tired, which I assure you I am. So I'll thank my reviewers once again for reading this story, putting up with it ;) and giving me their honest opinions. It really does mean a lot. And before I say something I'll regret, TTFN folks.

P.S. I've just finished reading this book called Hood (written by Stephen Lawhead) about the origins of Robin Hood. The author offers a Celtic spin on Robin Hood mythology, and it's a very good read. But be warned! This is book one of a series of three. I was stupid enough to pick it up without learning that the sequels haven't been written yet (or so I think), and am now kinda bummed. I really do hate the phrase: _to be continued..._

P.P.S. While I'm on the subject of books, and if you're feeling inclined to read, give a book called Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell a go. It's a lovely (if lengthy) story, set in an alternate universe in the 1800s. In it, Britain is at war with the conquering French and two magicians step up to the plate to defend their country. Of course, things go quite wrong, but I'd ruin it for you if I told you what happened.

* * *

**CHAPTER 9**

As the sun sank slowly across the horizon, it bathed Theed's skyline – its city a converging point of modern and historical structures – in an almost golden light. The glow reflected serenely off of glass and metal, gently touching the city streets below. Javin studied the beautiful dusky display as he sank his teeth into an apple. His homeworld, Endor, was not known for such graceful displays of nature. And he fully intended to savour the moment; preserve its memory, so that he could appreciate it later when in a calmer state of mind.

But to declare that his frame of mind needed soothing was an understatement, to say the least.

He contemplated their situation as he absently examined the half-eaten apple. The evening setting could not have been lovelier; the streets of Theed were still occupied by busy feet traipsing here and there. Even the air was fresh and sweet – it trod the line between hot and cold without overstepping its bounds in either direction. Everything was in balance, even if for a short span of time.

Which was why it all didn't fit.

It was as if fate was in a rage of its own making, and that this peaceful scene was simply construed to be the first of many taunts – to a life he was denied. Their meeting with Senator Sonum had unraveled too many layers to a truth he wasn't sure he wanted to uncover anymore. It surely bound him tight to his past, but if the truth could shake his foundations and faith in the Jedi Order, then that would mean that all this time he had been in service to a lie. Every act and deed that he carried out in the name of the Order would be hypocrisy, and in the end he would be abandoned at the beginning – empty hands displaying a fruitless endeavor.

Javin looked again into the setting sun, blinking at its remaining intensity – still strong – with a partial hope of being blinded to what the future held in store for them. But metaphors were metaphors, and no amount of convenient distractions could mask the fact that his past lay buried out in the depths of the galaxy, waiting to be found. Try as he might, he could not find a part of himself that wished it to remain hidden – he supposed that ultimately all he wanted was the truth, whatever it may be.

"I know some of these Masters," came a voice beside him suddenly, which jarred Javin out of his thoughts.

He turned his attention to James, who was busily reading Senator Sonum's journal. James stopped walking and sat down on some tiled steps; an entrance to a building. Javin remained standing, one hand holding an apple core and the other buried in his pocket. "Which ones?" he asked.

James' brow ruffled. "Well, just one actually...and I may have heard of the others through someone else. But this one, Master Lyre Renata – I met her when I was a youngling."

"So who was she then?" asked Javin, tired. "What did she do?"

"Sonum just says that she was someone involved in the cloning project. That Pietro knew her as someone who was...and I quote, "waist-deep in this loathsome business". I remember her," said James again, trying to recall a distant memory. "She taught us meditative techniques."

Javin scoffed.

James stared at the journal, his eyes growing sad. "If only we knew."

The younger man suddenly turned away, his eyes beginning to show sparks of an emerging anger. "If you only you knew? If you knew, _then what?_ What could you have done? You'd have followed the same road Pietro did. He obviously tried to stop it, but he couldn't...could he? In the end, it consumed him."

James gazed at his Padawan, watching the boy's head droop slightly. "We can't change the past. But we've been granted this time – the present – and now is when and where our choices make the most impact."

"It doesn't make any difference," said Javin, disheartened. "Who will be held accountable? Do you honestly think the Republic will hold a hearing, that they'll spare their own investigators at a time like this? And even if they did," he faced his master with a scowl, "...how many Jedi are around to face the consequences?"

"I never said we were going bring anyone to justice, Padawan. Trust me, I would have my heart set on it if I had an inkling of indication that we would prevail. But really, it would be a fool's hope."

Javin threw his hands up in the air, dejected. "So what can we do? Sweep the dirt under the rug and walk away? I can't do that. I...I owe it to myself and to Elori...and to Senator Sonum, that we would uncover the truth. You do too. You gave her your word."

James smiled grimly. "I know. I never said we would just stand by idly. Our dearth of information has just been filled," James held up the Senator's journal. "We have names, times, places."

"To do what?" asked Javin, half-heartedly. His body was tired and his mind was now catching up. To add to his growing fatigue, he felt as if his initial zeal had been doused in frigid water.

"Let's go have something to eat first, and I'll tell you then."

* * *

It was more of a restaurant and less of a cantina; and its clientele were obviously of higher repute. The sleek, dark wooden floors and classy décor suggested that those with fatter wallets primarily dined here. Nevertheless, James had decided that they both would profit from some good food and a brief, but pleasant, hiatus from their weary travails.

James and Javin walked up to a well-polished bar, and took their seats. After having ordered their meals and beverages, they sat in relative silence, James with his hands clasped out in front of him and Javin with his in his lap. A large screen that hung from the ceiling displayed images of the news and other less interesting matters. After their drinks had arrived, Javin reached for his and following a large swig, he spoke.

"I didn't mean to lose my temper earlier," he began.

"It's alright." smiled James, his fingers wrapped around his own glass. "You've had a trying day."

"No, no. You've endured it too – and you're holding up pretty well. I just...well, I have a better knack for acting like a child. And it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

"Fair enough," responded James as he glanced briefly at the holovid screen. "But know that I don't hold you accountable for your anger this time. It's justifiable."

"You mean," began Javin, a sly smile creeping over his lips, "I should be more impulsive? Let loose once in a while?"

"Heaven forbid!" laughed James. "You know what I mean."

Still smiling, Javin leaned sideways and peered around the corner of the bar in anticipation that their hot meals were on their way. The tight corridor was empty and he returned to a more upright seating position. "So...you said you'd tell me what you were thinking about once we got here. What is it? You have a plan?"

"The makings of one perhaps, Javin," mused James. "Having this information that Sonum gave us is all well and good – but I have to admit, I'm stymied when it comes to acting on it. There's a myriad of leads here. Probably half of them are dead ends." James lowered his voice a few degrees before proceeding. "It would do us no good to jet about searching for these Jedi when we don't even know if they're alive."

"So what do you suggest we do?" asked Javin, speaking softly in turn.

"Sonum hinted at the fact that Master Renata visited Ries every now and then."

"Who's that?"

"It's not a _who_, it's a _where_. It's a small world, indigenous plants and animals. Some tribal life."

"Why would she go there?" questioned Javin.

"Well, technically I don't think she ever went there. And Sonum said that Pietro thought so too. Trips and missions to other planets are carefully documented by those in the Temple – they're subject to scrutiny more often than you would imagine. So it occurred to me that perhaps her trips to Ries may have been fabricated. Or...if she did travel to that quadrant, then perhaps she visited one of the planets in that system."

Javin frowned pensively. "But this is all speculation, right? I mean, there's really no telling if we're right or wrong given the evidence."

"The evidence is there; only it's up to us to interpret it. Sonum is a Senator, and while she may be very good at what she does, she's no detective. Now," James leaned in closer, while simultaneously trying to portray their conversation as a casual one. "Now, lucky for us, she took very good notes, very diligent, very thorough. She mentioned that Pietro travelled to Ries once or twice. He found _very sophisticated_ irrigation channels. Some of which had to pump water uphill were using energy from rather contemporary power pylons."

"Couldn't they have gotten that off-world?" asked Javin.

James shook his head. "The people on Ries don't have speeders, let alone hyperspace engines. Pietro observed massive electrical fluctuations – power fluctuations! From a planet that doesn't even use mechanized methods to plough their fields! And then, on scouting out the place, he couldn't find a single structure that could give out those kind of readings."

"Maybe there's a structure constructed underground. Like on Telos."

"Maybe, maybe not. All I'm saying is that there has _got_ to be a place that has a need for that kind of energy. And I'll bet all my money that it's in that very system."

Suddenly, Javin's face froze. It was as if a misplaced gear had gotten back into its groove; a missing circuit was now connected. "Are you telling me that there might be another facility?" his voice faltered.

James' mouth pursed into a thin white line. "It would make sense now, wouldn't it? Why invest so much into one place knowing that it could be found out? The loss of a sole facility would be devastating. But if there were two, ah, now perhaps their loss would not have been as bad."

Their thoughts quickened along with their heartbeats. Could it be possible that this reticent and covert little operation was still alive? James had his doubts, but even if there was more than one location, and even if it were abandoned, perhaps its remnants would hand them more evidence to work with.

The steady flow of their thoughts was soon arrested by the arrival of two steaming hot meals. Following a set of polite thank-yous to their waitress, the two proceeded to eat, their minds soon returning to the possible significance of their hypothesis.

"I gotta say," said Javin, still actively chewing his food, "...that I can't find a persuasive-enough flaw in your theory. Realistically though, maybe there's an even simpler explanation for those power-readings. Maybe there's a military base or something – an abandoned one."

"Maybe," agreed James. "But I do think it's certainly worth considering. Maybe even worth investigating. What do you think?"

Javin swallowed his food and stared at his meal. The odors from the steak in front of him served to tantalize his taste buds; the distinct smell of herbs merging together wafted up his nostrils and his mouth watered even more. He let out a barely audible sigh. "Well, it's not like we have any comfort here. I mean, the weather's terrible, the food is atrocious and the people are an unrefined group of brigands."

James chuckled. Perhaps this show of acerbic wit was a sign that the boy was dealing with their daunting situation somewhat successfully. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

* * *

As the pair waited patiently on their bill, James happened to throw a careless glance at holovid to his right. The news was on, and initially he dismissed the images as per the norm – the media too often served the purpose of inflammation. They had been known to trump up situations, bring forth undeserved and ill-timed judgments, and characterize otherwise mild incidents into fearful and terror-inspiring moments.

James scoffed lightly as the picture on the screen panned over a lavish abode; now circled by a frenzied crowd of people, held back by a narrow barrier. It almost seemed like an adventurous holovid, borne from an overactive imagination, which drew rapt attention from the public. But this was no film and no yarn. Someone famous had obviously stirred things up. _What some people will do for their time in the spotlight_, thought James. He shook his head slowly, a little saddened for them.

"Isn't that the Senator?" came Javin's voice next to him.

"What?" said James, his brow creasing. He quickly turned his attention back to the screen. "So it is," he muttered under his breath, a little amazed, as a picture of their new acquaintance appeared briefly.

"What's going on?" spoke another voice from within the restaurant.

The barman fiddled with a small instrument in his hand and almost immediately, the images were accompanied by audible narration. James watched, his eyes widening, as he learned that the senator's home had caught fire. The pyre from which white smoke stemmed was not a trifling one, however. It appeared as if the entire right section of the house was being enveloped by angry flames. As the camera zoomed in, he could clearly discern crumbling walls, broken windows and the wafting about of ash from many crevices.

"James..." began Javin, his voice fearful. "They're saying she was in the house."

The older man didn't respond. How on earth had this happened? _More importantly_, said a voice within him, _why did it happen?_

"Should we...be trying to help her?" spoke Javin again.

James lowered his eyes for a moment, thinking. "No. The authorities will have it under control."

"Maybe...maybe she's okay. Maybe they got to her in time."

James chewed his bottom lip nervously. He doubted that this new and alarming development was coincidental. It was well-timed. As for whether it was executed prudently was another matter. But then again, an explosion from a fire could be written off as a tragic accident. At least primarily. No one would initially deduce that someone with murderous intent had a hand in the matter.

Which then meant that he and Javin were no longer the only ones (or outsiders, at any rate) who knew of the senator's past. And whoever sought to see her dead was seeking to bury the entire matter at any cost. It was a frightening thought, and one that did not bode well for him and his Padawan. The longer they remained here, the greater the chances of discovery. In times past, perhaps he would have stayed and fought this invisible menace – which he was certain it was – but back then he would likely have had the support of other Jedi. Atris, at the very least. Now, he and Javin were nothing more than fugitives and they certainly were ill-equipped for confronting an assailant they knew nothing about.

He had made his decision, then. There was really no time for reconsideration.

"Javin." said James, his voice now stern and more authoritative. "We can't stay here anymore. We've got to leave Naboo. We've got to get to Ries and to the bottom of this as soon as possible."

* * *

A slight rain began to patter its way on the cobbled streets of Theed during the night, intensifying the colours of the flagstones in splotches underneath the lamplight. The leaves on the bushes and trees, disturbed by the slowly falling rain, began to wave about gently. And small rivulets of water hurried quickly along their paths into side street drains.

Elori Mataki drew up the collar of her coat close about her, as Atton Rand mouthed inaudible words under his breath. As the rain persisted, even though it didn't intensify, Atton's countenance was sullen, and his near-trademark scowl wasn't ready to abandon him.

"I thought this blasted place was supposed to have good weather," he complained. Elori's response wasn't forthcoming, so he continued on, eager to vent his frustrations. "I mean, seriously. For a planet boasting of being one of the best tourist capitals in the galaxy, this sure isn't doing its rep any good."

Elori sighed. "Atton, it's rain. It isn't going to maul you. Now if you ever want to complain about the weather, head over to Hoth and we'll see how you like it there."

"You ever been to Hoth?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. He could do with convenient distractions at the moment.

"Yes."

Atton paused for a second, anticipating a more elaborate answer. And then, on receiving none, "Well? What's it like?"

"Cold. Snowy."

"You don't say." he responded, as he rolled his eyes. She certainly didn't seem eager to discuss the wintery perils of Hoth. "Bet you got to travel quite a bit, though...as a Jedi, I mean. What place do you remember the most?"

_Malachor V_, thought Elori, but kept the comment within herself. She was really in no mood for soul-searching; she had done enough of that while on Dagobah. "Felucia," she replied. "I adore mushrooms."

"...And giant flowers too, I take it." he said, recalling a distant memory.

"The fungus forest," spoke Elori as a thin smile crossed her lips. "Not for the faint of stomach."

Atton turned and gave her a broad grin. "Was it any good?"

"There were some Felucians, Gossams and Twi'leks there who knew how to cook it well. The trick is to drive out some of the toxins from the mushroom flesh. They'd boil it for...oh, two to three hours at least, and then allow for it to dry for a day before using it for cooking. But when they did, well...the results were splendid. Now, the humans there were always in far too much of a hurry. They'd boil it just fine, but never waited long enough for it to dry. And when they finally cooked and ate it, well, let's just say that there were enough belly aches to go around the table."

Atton pursed his lips, trying to suppress the thought of succulent mushrooms. His stomach growled in protest. "So. When do we eat?"

"We just did, Atton."

"That was three hours ago! And on the ship!"

"What would you like me to do?" she asked, a little unaccustomed to this side of him.

"We should stop! Get out of the rain for a bit and find a nice little diner to...uh...dine in!"

Elori looked at him, her expression deadpan. "You're not going to die of starvation just as much as you're not going to drown from this weather." She paused in her tracks and placed her hands on her hips, feeling a little like she was addressing Javin, or a much younger child. "We have work to do."

A look of gloom shadowed Atton's face. "Oh alright then," he consented, grudgingly. "Where's this Senator's place anyway? Shouldn't we be there yet?"

"Yes, Atton," said Elori patiently. "It's about four more blocks from where we're at."

Atton thrust his moist hands deep into his pockets and walked along with his companion in silence.

* * *

Their pace slowed as a barrage of speeders, emergency vehicles mostly, sped by. As the yellow, blue and red lights flickered on the astounded faces of passers-by, a sense of dread crept over the hearts of Elori and Atton. They were sufficiently aware that the materialization of these transports did not endanger them (or at least, not directly), but they were anxious enough to know that a life – or more than one – hung in the balance.

Atton himself developed a dry, worried taste in his mouth. A darker foreboding grew within him to a greater extent than it did in Elori, and he partly wished that he had never opened his big mouth on board that freighter. He also grudgingly recognized that had he never accepted that blasted job on Alderaan, then he wouldn't be halfway across the galaxy, inviting danger with a beckoning hand. But then again, he wouldn't have happened across Elori, and with that, a possible reconnection with someone his heart secretly coveted: Yustan.

This caused him to instinctively jostle her memory quickly to a side, trying to heave his thoughts back to reality.

In front of him, Elori had quickened her strides to a half-jog, apparently eager to find the root of this new incident. He followed her line of sight as she gazed up into the night sky, her eyes perceiving large curls of billowing smoke, stemming from a reddish glow below. For now, the source of the blaze was hidden behind a thin line of trees and brick wall about eight-feet high. Atton's walk broke into a run to catch up with his companion, and as they both headed around the corner, they finally caught sight of the conflagration.

He walked beside Elori, his eyes entranced by the small inferno, and said, "Please tell me this isn't the senator's place,"

Her shoulders drooped, and that was response enough for him.

"What the hell went on here?" he asked, partly to himself.

A helpful bystander neared herself to Atton and spoke. "Senator Sonum's home caught fire about an hour ago," she volunteered. "Normally they'd have been able to have the situation under control by now, but they're saying the flames are tolerant – _too_ tolerant – for fire suppressants."

"Who're you?" asked Atton, if a little rudely.

The woman was not taken aback. Instead, she smiled sadly and offered out her hand. "Brynn Katimnai. Med-tech. They say it's not safe for us to go in yet. I would be inclined to agree, but it's hard to. Considering that there still may be people alive in there." She nodded towards the burning house.

Atton inclined his head, noticing the medical equipment placed on the grass behind the woman. He blinked his eyes, as a slow realization conceived itself in his mind. Turning his attention to the pyre that blazed several yards in front of him, the med-tech's words echoed in his thoughts. _Too tolerant for fire suppressants_. No civilized home utilized that kind of energy. Of the fuel or electricity that was appropriated, engineers often made doubly-sure that a possible explosion could soon be quelled by safety instruments provided to the homeowner. And if that tactic failed, then it could certainly be eradicated by individuals pertinent to this kind of emergency.

This kind of crisis seemed displaced from normalcy, or at least, from everyday accidents.

He placed a hand on Elori's shoulder, breaking her hypnotic gaze towards the pyre. "I have a bad feeling about this," he ventured.

"Lower your voice," she urged.

Acquiescing, he continued. "I don't think this was coincidence," and on seeing her puzzled expression, elaborated. "I spoke to the med-tech over there – she said they've been trying to put the fire out for an _hour_." He watched as Elori's lips parted slightly in alarm. "_I know_. Look, Elori, my gut – which fails me pretty rarely – is telling me that this whole thing may have been deliberate."

She turned her attention back to the frantic scene. "I don't think someone knew we were coming..."

He shook his head. "No, that's not it. What I mean is, you said this senator may have been involved in something, right? What if the people who she used to work with got paranoid? Maybe they took this opportunity to snuff her out."

"That would mean that she already spoke with someone about it," she deduced.

"Maybe. But really...there's no telling what happened," Atton frowned, unaware that his apprehensions were quite noticeable. "We should get gone from this place. We don't belong here anymore and we don't know what happened."

Elori's face darkened, even by the glow from the flames. It didn't seem right and she felt cheated. First by James, when he had denied her the knowledge to her past so many months ago, and now by this mockery of a bonfire. She had clung to Sonum as her one link to the conspiracy that the Jedi had brought to pass. And now that Sonum seemed lost to her and to this world, she found it tremendously difficult to relinquish her grip on what could have been.

_If something insists on being, on living_, came a voice in her mind, _then perhaps we should give it an audience_. _For that voice may be the cry of the dead, demanding justice, demanding truth_. _If blinded, we remain, then perpetuate a lie and prolong the stay of evil, is what we are party to. No more than servants to darkness have we become_.

Hearing the wisdom of Yura was all she needed to make her decision.

She looked at Atton, a grim expression on her face. "If we don't know what happened, then we need to find out."

* * *

"Are you out of your mind?!" yelped Atton.

He struggled to keep up with her. He was partly jogging and partly walking, in a ludicrous attempt to avoid undue attention. The back of the senator's home was devoid of a large crowd, but there were still a handful of curious spectators about.

"Seriously," hissed Atton trying not to be too loud, "...this has _got_ be one of the stupidest things I've done!"

"Well I'm sure that if you did a little more thinking, you could easily top it," threw back Elori.

"And just how are we supposed to get in?" he asked, doggedly attempting to dissuade her from her intentions.

Elori finally stopped jogging and safely away from the line of sight of onlookers, she pointed ahead of her. Atton gazed in the general direction of her gesture, and saw nothing but a brick wall, in front of which lay several deciduous trees. Impatient, he looked back at her and shrugged, his hands held hapless in midair.

"No, _look_," stressed Elori, pointing again.

Squinting, his eyes surveyed the landscape and as they began to grow accustomed to the darkness, he discerned a break in the wall. In between the narrow gap sat something...which he quickly recognized to be a gate.

"How'd you know it would be there?" he asked, his mouth ajar.

"Every politician's little palace has more than one entrance. You of all people ought to know that. There's the publicized entrance and then...there's your dingy little back door." she said, obviously quite pleased with herself.

"That's great but...have you forgotten about security? This place has gotta be decked with it!"

"Oh come on, Atton. Just take a look." Elori nodded in the direction of the house; sections of it still ablaze. "I doubt they're going to send anyone in there."

"Yet here _we _are," said Atton, his senses still ringing alarm bells, "Going right into the demon's ass!"

Elori's eyes shone in the darkness; Atton's misery and anxiety a stark contrast to her animated visage. "It's okay. Really. All we have to do is find the security recordings, download them onto a datapad, and – "

" – morph into charred corpses!" interrupted Atton.

Elori shoved Atton gently. "Come on, you've been in worse situations before, haven't you?"

"...not of my own making, no!" He cast another glance at the senator's home. "We're walking into a death trap, Elori! My number one rule to survival: never bloody put yourself in harm's way!"

Her face grew serious and her gaze turned downwards. It was as if she had suddenly realized something. "You're right. I have no right to risk lives on account of my own agenda,"

Atton nodded, sighing in relief. _Finally._ Persuasion may have been difficult, but she had ultimately seen the light.

After a long deliberated breath, she looked back up at him. "I'll go by myself. Have you got any weapons?"

* * *

Two small service pistols with laser sights were all that Atton could muster up. Well, _that_ and the honour of his presence, mused Elori. It brought a small smile to her lips. Perhaps his integrity was salvageable after all.

They had each devised that the best mode of operation would be if they split up. Intially, of course, they intended to perform a cursory examination of what portions of the large house were left intact, and thus, deduce which structures would prove sturdy enough to withstand their weight.

The pair skittered across the lawn in the darkness, and entered through a broken window. As he cautiously made his way into the house, Atton threw a glance behind him, where safety lay, and muttered a silent prayer to himself. It was a prayer he had sometimes heard prisoners and his own captives murmur, and although he was oblivious to which deity was acknowledged, he fervently hoped that that deity took pity on him nonetheless.

The room they had entered was much darker, and there were no signs of flames or smoke. Atton breathed a small sigh of relief. Looking about him, he saw the dull glow of a muted lamp coming from across a corridor to their right. He strode quietly in that direction, with Elori following close behind.

They soon arrived at a much larger room, its corners lined with sofas and chairs. A glass coffee table lay at its center, with a fireplace and its mantle integrated into the wall. The place seemed quite desolate now and Elori imagined that at a previous time, it must have been quite cozy and beautiful. Certainly, the senator appeared to have good taste. _Had _good taste, she reminded herself.

"I take it this isn't the security room," whispered Atton.

She moved forward slowly, surveying the area. Aside from the corridor through which they had entered, there appeared to be two other passages. As she investigated both, she heard Atton fumbling with something in the background. She turned and saw him trying to pry open a box attached to the wall. The lid apparently held fast, but with some firm persuasion, it came loose in Atton's hand at the cost of a loud metallic clang.

Elori winced and spun around. She jerked her hand in the air, signaling for him to be silent. Atton beckoned for her to come to him.

"Will you please be quiet?!" she hissed.

"What? It's not like there's anyone in here. The only thing we have to worry about is being served as crème brûlѐe for dessert,"

"Atton..." began Elori, and quickly gave up. Time was not on their side, and starting a heated debate surely wouldn't help. "What is it?"

He held up two pieces of oddly shaped metal. "Comm links." He nodded in the direction of the container he had just opened. "Emergency box has also got a flashlight. Do you want it?"

"Just the one?" she asked. He nodded. "You take it. Here, give me one of the comm. links. They'll come in handy though. Thanks. And next time, _please _be quiet?" He nodded again. "Have you got your pistol? Are they both charged?"

Atton gave her a sardonic look, as if to suggest that she certainly held him in low esteem.

"Okay, good." she responded.

"Just who are you expecting anyway?" he asked.

And then, just as if on cue, she heard soft thumps coming from above them. This was not the groaning of wood or bending metal, it was the distinctive sound of feet walking across the floor. Elori stared at Atton, her eyes wide.

"I heard it too," he said, his voice barely audible. "You know, as much as I hate to say it, I don't think we're alone in here. I don't suppose you think the senator's still alive, do you?"

She shook her head. "This is where we split up, Atton. You go look for the security room. Once you get the files, for heaven's sake don't dawdle, get out. I'll meet you outside."

"What're you going to do?" he asked.

"I have a sneaking suspicion that our arsonists are still around," she replied.

"Oh, _terrific_."

"Be careful," she urged, placing a hand on his shoulder. She started walking backwards towards the second corridor. "Use the comm. links, okay? And don't try to be too brave!"

Atton frowned as he nodded. He never considered courage as one of his strong suits, but his desire for survival certainly was.

* * *

As Elori crept up the stairs, she would pause every now and again, straining to listen for anything out of the ordinary. In this part of the house, unlike the rest, the sounds of the flames ravaging their surroundings could be heard. The noises of structures exerting themselves to maintain their positions were becoming more evident. And these sounds did nothing to aid her sense of hearing. She could only hope that her fear came needlessly to her, and that she had misconstrued the groaning cries of the house to be that of someone's footfalls.

A small part of her grew nervously excited, and urged her – like a child tugging on the skirt's hem of her mother – to stretch out with her feelings. _Use the Force_, it seemed to say. But a majority of her person remained stubbornly resilient to this idea. If it had abandoned her on the commandment of the Council years ago, and she had survived without its aid thus far, then she certainly had neither the taste nor the use for it now.

As Elori neared the landing of the stairway, the corner of her eye caught the barest glimpse of movement. Her impulse pushed for an investigation into the activity, but she had more faith in her instinct, and it warned her to hide given the quickest opportunity. She saw a wall to her right that reached halfway up to the ceiling. _That will do_, she decided.

Crouching, she made her way alongside it, using the wall for cover, pulling out the service pistol as she did so. As she pulled into a small room, her eyes sought desperately for a place to conceal her person, and quickly found what they were looking for in a moderately-sized cabinet against the wall. Almost as soon as she had screened herself from view, she heard the soft sounds of someone approaching.

Seconds passed by, and the sound stopped. Just as soon as she was prepared to peer around the safety of her cabinet, the noise of light rattling and shuffling took its place. Elori couldn't take it anymore. Being shielded from the sight of her presumed-enemy was hard enough – her thighs began to burn from the crouch, but being unable to see them was more than she could bare. She peeked around the corner of her little nook and saw nothing.

But the shuffling still persisted.

_And what's more_, she recognized, _it was coming from in front of her. In this very room_.

Her heartbeat quickened. She saw no reasonable explanation for this quandary, and quite flummoxed, she had half a mind to surprise this intruder with a swift blow to his chest.

That is, if she could see his chest.

_How on earth could someone walk about, in her line of sight too, without being seen_, she wondered? _It was almost as if they were wearing...stealth generators_.

She smiled grimly in realization. _Now that we know the secrets to your devilry_, she told herself, _all we have to do is find out why_.

Elori held the pistol in the palm of her hand, and recalling something that she had learned in the field of battle (when dealing with stealth enemies), she displaced the laser targeting device – used to help direct the user's aim to its mark – from its barrel. And slowly, with her hand hidden and low to the ground, she shone the small instrument in front of her. The pinpoint of red light searched dutifully across the room, until it came upon a fragment of space that seemed to disobey the laws of physics.

Here, the light almost seemed to split, causing its nearest surroundings to bend every which way.

Grinning broadly, Elori wasted no time in pulling out her weapon and firing in the direction of the laser. The pistol let out a small twang as it fired, and proceeding it, she heard a groan and a thud. Rising carefully from her hiding place, she watched in grim silence as the form of a human materialized before her as the stealth generator's abilities deteriorated. She bent over his form and to ensure that she finished what she had begun, delivered a quick blow to the side of his head.

She stared at the intruder in dawning recognition. Nothing of his visage, save for his closed eyes, could be seen. His head was draped in tightly wound, black, shrouded clothing that served to match the rest of his darkened attire. In his gloved hand, he held a menacing-looking double-bladed vibrosword.

"There'll be no more of that," muttered Elori to herself, as she grabbed the weapon and tossed it to a far corner of the room. She quickly removed his generator belt, flinging that aside where it could not be easily found as well. It was then that she seemed to notice the fallen man for the second time, as words from recent memory came to her.

_They're masked – they are. By a veil of black cloth_.

Reese, she realized. Those were his very words. His warnings.

_Bloody hell_, she thought. _Please don't tell me these nightmares actually exist? But no, he's a man, isn't he?_

Unable to contain her curiousity any longer, and with the immediate urge to dispel any of Reese's supernatural imaginings, she bent over and tore the cloth away from the man's face.

In a mixture of disgust and amazement, she recoiled, bringing her hand to her mouth. The man's face bore an ashen hue. His nose, or what she believed to be his nose, was nothing but two slanting slits, and his mouth – now that made her shudder all the more – seemed as if it were stitched together by a cruel seamstress.

Her hands grew icy, and she found herself trembling involuntarily. Perplexed and in shock, she moved about the small room in confusion, unwittingly knocking an object to the floor. It bounced against the wall and hit the ground with a resounding crash.

The noise shattered the silence around her and quickly brought her to her senses. She wanted nothing more than to get the security files, Atton, and the hell away from this place.

Then suddenly, as if in response to her awakening, she heard a voice coming from the hallway outside the room. But this time it wasn't murky or muddled. It was clear and concise, a voice that emanated from the lips of its issuer with a distinct clarity. "Go see to it! We've bungled enough of this as it is!"

Elori shuffled about from one foot to the next. She half-wanted to run through the hallway, down the flight of stairs in an attempt at frantic escape. But no, the more sensible part of her instructed, here was her chance for knowledge. Knowledge of an enemy she now realized she knew little about.

Making her decision, she paused at the entrance to the corridor listening. This time, there were no footsteps. Biting away at her lower lip, she strained to hear more.

The explosion came from below her, and while it stemmed from another part of the house, its force was powerful enough to knock Elori off her feet. For several moments, she felt as if the world was twisting and turning, when finally it graced her acknowledgement by rushing up to meet her.

Elori shielded her face as she hit the floor, and intuitively curled herself up into a foetal position. She felt the hot blast of smoke blow dangerously close to her, and sucked in what breathable air she could. She tried to ignore the protests of her joints and muscles. The fall had pained her immensely, but nothing appeared to be severely damaged. She bided her time, listening fearfully to the sounds of creaking and splitting wood. Finally, as the series of eruptions ceased, she began to crawl, looking up every now and again towards an opening to safety.

Her environment seemed to be ablaze, and to add to her growing panic no exit was in sight. The smoke was thick and heavy, and as she crept along the floor, it grew denser. Coughing, she realized that this was not the route to security, and turned around. As she made her way in the opposite direction, she heard a soft chiming coming from within the pocket of her jacket.

_The comm. link_, she realized!

Yanking it into her grip, she tried to speak but let loose a shower of coughs instead. Eventually, she managed to talk, albeit in a shaken voice. "Atton!" she cried, "Where...are you?"

"Not so loud!" she managed to hear him say. "There was an explosion," he paused momentarily, " – there was an explosion and there's someone in the house,"

"I know. Have you got the security files?" asked Elori.

"Yes, but – "

Elori allowed herself a small moment of relief. At least one of her goals had been accomplished. "Get out of the house, Atton. Quickly!"

" – but there's someone here,"

She halted crawling, and in a voice seeped in dread, she spoke. "Where?"

"Outside this room. Or in it. I can't say. Blast it, I don't know!" His voice seemed urgent, panicked.

She coughed again. The fumes were beginning to have their effect on her lungs. "...stealth generators," she managed to mutter.

"What?"

She spoke louder this time. "They have stealth generators! Unhook your laser sights! You'll be able to tell where they are If you shine the lasers on them,"

"Copy that, wish me – " and with that, he was cut off.

"Atton? Atton?!" she yelled into the comm. link. It was no use. He was gone.

* * *

Elori Mataki had no choice but crawl through the safest path chance had granted her. The going was slow, but steady, and within the span of a several minutes she saw an opening which she perceived to be the same window they had entered from. There was no smile on her face, however, as her thoughts wandered back again to the fate of her friend.

She paused, about ready to flee the burning house, when she turned back. He hadn't abandoned her when she had made her decision. This whole errand, this entire predicament served her own ends, not his own. Sure, he wanted to seize any chance he could to see Yustan again, but he had followed her into peril faithfully – as a true friend would. If there was a chance that the cocksure miscreant was still alive, then it was reason enough for her to return to ensure his safety.

With an inexorable expression, she trampled her way through the debris and smoke back into the house for a second time.

* * *

The fumes were less dense here, the walls had served their purpose well – protecting these rooms from the series of explosions. Grateful, she made her way through several passageways, peering into rooms for any sign of her companion. Upon reaching the end of the areaway, she caught the sound of muffled voices. Cautiously stepping towards the door, she made use of a rectangular glass mural that provided her an acceptable, if hazy, view of the antechamber which the door was an entrance to.

While the glass was thick, coloured, and could hardly be considered clear, the sound of the invaders' voices rang quite lucidly through it.

"We shall stop searching. For the moment. We have lingered here far too long, and while I'm confident of your abilities, I prefer caution to ambition. Have you found any sign of the intruders or your comrades?" Elori recognized the voice as that which she had heard earlier – right before the explosion.

A guttural sound emanated from the figure beside the woman.

"No matter. The Senator is dead, and while part of our aims have been achieved, the other half remains unfulfilled. She mentioned nothing to me of a journal. What? Of course I made sure. There is still her son, however. Perhaps he would be more willing."

Elori watched in silence as the woman stretched out with her foot and touched a crumpled sack at her feet. "A pity, too. She was a fighter – our dear Sonum was."

It took Elori a moment to realize that it was the deceased body of the senator who the woman toed with such disrespect. Her face glowered with anger as the female continued to speak. "We shall proceed as planned. These events change nothing. I will dispatch him to Ries, and in the meantime, I shall plan to grace Isael with my presence. Come, there is much to be done."

And then, leaving the senator's corpse on the floor, she watched as the woman strode away from her, with her invisible companion (or companions, thought Elori) out of the foyer. Elori readied herself to pursue the party in stealth when a comm. link chimed in the palm of her hand, causing her to nearly leap out of her skin.

"Elori?" came the familiar voice.

She gasped in relief and momentarily forgot about the woman and the senator. "Atton! Where are you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he reassured, his voice sounding tinny through the communication device. "Look, I'm outside and they're saying the house is about ready to come down. Wherever you are, you'd better get out quick."

"Have you got the files?" she asked for the second time.

His voice sounded exasperated yet urgent. "_Yes_, I've got your precious files!"

"Atton, look, I found the Senator. And I saw who did this. I have to follow them. Take the security files and – "

Atton quickly cut her off. " – this isn't the time for your damned bravado, you idiot! The house is coming down! You'll lose it all if you don't get out now!"

Elori paused, deliberating. She wanted to follow this woman, whoever she was. Circumstance demanded that this mystery be unraveled. And yet, caution warned her that going up against a foe she knew naught about was foolish. Which may prove that all her efforts would be insignificant, just as Atton had said. If she held her cards with patience, she could get to safety, view the security recordings and decide which hand to play. Recognizing that this was the most logical and the more secure compromise, she was still angered by having to make the decision and thumped her fist against the wall in frustration.

"Okay. I'm coming out." she said, her voice a monotone.


End file.
